Los Dias De Los Muertos
by Mlle. Phoenix Fox
Summary: The Day of the Dead is When the Phantom of the Opera Begins to Live
1. Epilouge

**_Author Note: DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN ANYTHING POTO RELATED; DO OWN OC'S AND TOWN OF HEAVEN'S CORNER,TX_**

**_Okay, so I'm trying to post this again...even though I'm STILL not finished with it. Hope to have this done this year...oy...famous last words. Enjoy. Review. And as always..._**

**_peace, love and lipgloss, _**

**_Mlle.Fox_**

* * *

Epilogue (The End is Only the Beginning)

In the enclosed gypsy camp, the fires that usually thrived and burned until morning were as cold as the October frost in the air. The wind howled and wailed and leaves of glorious gold's and reds danced past the tents of wagons. One tent flap opened, letting a small boy in an iron cage catch a glimpse of the orange moon. Usually, they let him out to play on nights like this. But tonight he stayed in. Suddenly, he jumped as an old gypsy crone threw in a pot of leftover scraps and gruel. She snarled her old snaggled teeth and spat in a thick Romanian accent,

"Cowards! All of zem! Full grown men afraid to step out and so zey leave an old woman to feed the animals. Bah!"

The boy was used to being called an animal. And in a way he tolerated her calling him an animal since she was one of the few outsiders brought inside the tribe as a young bride from another gypsy family. She knew what it meant to be an outcast. So that was why he asked her in a soft voice,

"Why are they afraid?"

The old crone raised a bemused eyebrow,

"You? Ze so called 'Devil's Child' does not know what tonight is?"

The boy clutched the bars facing her and shook his head no. She sniffed the air in contempt and told him,

"Well...you sniveling idiot...Tonight is All Hallow's Eve...The night the dead return to Earth."

The boy gasped but managed to stutter out,

"Th...That's physically impossible!"

"Who said ze dead were of ze physical? Zey are spirits zhat wander ze Earth for this one night, terrifying ze masses, tormenting ze living, prosecuting those who did zem wrong in life. And of course...feasting on the innocent." she told him.

"They...they eat the innocent?" the boy asked.

"Trying to gain back ze flesh they lost in death. Ze go door to door, demanding food to give zem strength for ze journey beyond ze grave. But...you have nothing to fear...Ze won't eat jou..."

"They...they won't?" he asked hoping for a reprieve, his blue green eyes gaping in wonder.

"Of course...why...with zat gargoyle face of yours...ze spirits are frightened away! AH HAHAHAHAHA!" the terrible witch cackled into the night as the boy gingerly touched the burlap mask covering his face, his full lower lip trembling in fear and shame.


	2. October 29

**_Author Note: Disclaimer: FYI; Erik will have a full head of black hair. Don't like, don't read._**

* * *

October 29, 1876

"Manuela! Manuela! Maria! Where is your daughter?" barked Don Ricardo Montevilla stomping into his lavish parlor of red velvets and stained glass windows and dark wood paneling. His wife, doing her embroidery on the settee and not looking up for a moment said evenly,

"Do not yell Ricardo. The Doctor said it raises your blood pressure. Besides, Manuela is also your daughter."

"Not today!" Ricardo declared pacing the Persian rugs. Donna Maria Montevilla was a beautiful dark haired beauty, born of the native Mexican people, married into Spanish nobility. Her only indicator of her age was Crow's Feet at the corner of her brown eyes. Crow's feet developed after years of frowning at the antics of her husband the Don. She sighed a regal sigh and said,

"She's in the courtyard planning the fiesta. What has she done now?"

"What she always does! Embarrass me! Manuela!" Don Ricardo yelled as he stomped out towards the courtyard of his _villa_. Maria sighed, putting down her embroidery to follow him, muttering under her breath as her royal purple silks swifts along the tiles,

"Virgin Mother give me strength!"

The courtyard sat on a small hill overlooking the rows and rows of grapes vines made into fine and garnet red wine. Everyone was a bustle of activity. Workers were brought in from the vineyards to help the domestic staff hang garlands of flowers in oranges and yellows, with bright and carefully cut _papel picados _pinks and purples and greens. Paper and wire skeletons grinned as they were hung up in the corners, A canopy of _pinatas _were slowly being lifted up into the air under the close supervision of Senorita Manuela Angelita Maria Montevilla; Don Ricardo's only child and greatest cause of heartburn.

"Steady now! Steady...A little higher on the right, _por favor!_"

Don Ricardo was not a tall man, but he was imposing enough and resembled a bull enough to plow his way through, no man daring to cross his path. He stopped behind his daughter and told her,

"Manuela! We must have a word!"

"Oh Papa! Can't it wait? I have a million things to do today if I'm to have any fun at our _fiesta._ Besides...I know what you're going to lecture me about." Manuela said biting her lower lip. She began to chew her pencil in thought as Ricardo asked sarcastically,

"Oh really? And what is that pray tell?"

"Hmm? Oh, you know, Juan Gregorio told you after our tea today that I was a hellcat and a demon to him." Manuela said counting how many tables were out so far.

"Yes...well..."

"But Papa I assure you I was most kind when I told him that if he wished to marry, he best find a woman who gets hot and bothered when he speaks endlessly about his holdings which he did nothing to earn." she said pointing a large skeletal donkey decoration across the courtyard.

"Manuela!" Ricardo gasped.

"And I was nothing but gentile when I explained to him that women these days are interested in more than shopping and embroidery and you know me. Before I knew it I was describing the chemical advances Home Economists have made in water purification." she said checking off her list again.

"Manuela..." sighed the frustrated Don pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I would suppose that was the point Juan said 'He didn't understand' and I blurted out, 'I'm not surprised.' But Papa I swear I apologized profusely." Manuela said looking at her father who dryly responded,

"And I suppose you were nothing but sincere?"

"If you say so Papa." Manuela said returning to her list. Don Ricardo threw up his hands and fell into a chair,

"I give up!"

"Oh Ricardo...Manuela is just spirited. A fine trait for a wife in any marriage." Donna Marie said entering the conversation.

"_Gracias _Mama!" Manuela sang as she gave her mother a peck on the cheek.

"Spirited! If being spirited means being twenty five and not married because you have scared off every male in Texas...I'll...I'll eat my _zapatos!_" Ricardo blurted out.

"Blood pressure Ricardo..." Marie warned him.

"Oh Papa! Texas isn't a part of Mexico or Spain anymore. We are United States citizens. It is perfectible acceptable for a woman to pursue her studies before marriage." Manuela said.

"Please don't get into all that business about the new feminine arts and Home Economics. Cooking is cooking, sewing is sewing and cleaning is cleaning!" Ricardo said.

"Oh no Papa! Not with all the wonderful things they're finding out about nutrients, the sewing machine and sanitation processes. The new feminine arts are changing the quality of life for all!" Manuela declared clutching her clipboard to her chest.

"And what does your fellow Home Economists say about family hmm? Children?" Ricardo countered. Manuela looked down,

"You may have a point there. My profession does encourage marriage and family."

"Ah-ha! And you tell me how you're going to find a husband if you keep being so...picky!? Hmm? Snap your fingers, wave your magic wand and there he is? It is time to grow up Manuela." Ricardo said standing to his feet.

"...Wand? Papa...that's it!" Manuela cried putting down her clipboard on a nearby table.

"What's it?" he asked.

"Papa, I do want to get married I do..." she said rushing over to where she had left her shawl.

"Well good..."

"And I know exactly what to do Papa. Do you remember the story of the Little Cinder girl?" Manuela asked throwing her shawl around her creamy shoulders.

"Well...yes...But what does that have to do with anything?" he asked confused.

"Papa! Keep up!" Give me until All Souls Day to find and choose a husband. If I don't come to a decision...I'll let you decide for me. Agreed?" Manuela offered.

"But...but...but..." sputtered Don Ricardo as Manuela kissed his cheek and dashed out.

"Where are you going Manuela?" asked Maria.

"To see Sister Sarah Elizabeth. For a nun she pays close attention to the available men in town. _Adios_ Mama! _Adios _Papa! I'll see you later!" Manuela called over her shoulder as she picked up her skirts and ran out, her black boots clicking on the tile work.

"But...but...but..." Ricardo sputtered, desperately looking to his wife for help. Maria sighed with an amused smile and said,

"Spirited...That is what I asked the Holy Mother for in a child. Spirited so I could have a challenge. But apparently...it was not my challenge to bear."

She then patted her husband's shoulder and returned to the house. Don Ricardo sighed and waved over a butler,

"Carlos...A shot of whiskey."

"No whiskey! Doctor's orders!" Maria called from within the house as Ricardo rubbed his temple.

He stood before the full length glass window, ignoring the darkness, the emptiness, the lone tick-tock of the grandfather clock. He ignored the crates of his books, instruments, paintings and knick-knacks waiting to be unpacked. He merely stood there, arms folded over a broad chest, dark blue green eyes glaring at the city street below.

It was the Main Street. Carriages and Cowboys riding to and fro. He ignored the merriment of the playing schoolchildren, the chattering of the local gossip and street vendor proprietors. He ignored the mud, the construction and the decorations for some festival of this small town called 'Heaven's Corner'. He had come to this small town on the border of Texas and Mexico to forget and ignore his past. But as he looked out at the few scattering of changing leaves over the desert skyline, he ignored Heaven's Corner to look inside his memories of Paris, the rolling French countryside and L'Opera Populair. When a vision of brown curls and brown eyes filled his mind, he closed his eyes and said in a deep baritone,

"Oh Christine..." Then he closed the heavy curtains, shutting out the sun to leave himself in darkness.

"_Hola_ Manuela!" cried one of the street vendors giving her a wave.

"_Hola_ Joseph!" Manuela waved to him as she walked on the wooden sidewalks. Then she bumped into something solid. Before she could say 'Excuse me _Senor_', the man spoke,

"_Buenos dias_ Manuela."

She rolled her dark gray eyes to look up at the dapper, dark eyed and wicked looking Alejandro Garcia, a young man who carried the cologne of old money and debauchery like a second deeply tanned skin.

"Good day Senor Garcia. If you will excuse me?" Manuela said putting on her coldest shoulder. She tried to side step Alejandro but he blocked her path. She rolled her eyes and huffed. How she loathed this man! He was pompous, selfish and everyone in town knew he was a wicked drunk and a frequent guest at Miss Mixon's Courtesan House. And he was constantly trying to court her, but not even her parent's allowed that.

"I cannot wait until the fiesta your _familia_ is throwing for the whole town Manuela." he said trying to be cordial but it came out sounding sleazy.

"Yes well...neither can I..._Los Dias de Los Muertos _is my favorite holiday." Manuela said looking over his shoulder in vain towards the old white stucco chapel. Alejandro look at her intentions and said with a wicked smirk,

"Are you going to confession? Some...wicked thoughts about me perhaps?"

Manuela huffed,

"Yes...but don't get too excited. They're not flattering." She forced her way past Alejandro as he walked her walk off, chuckling with a plan in mind. Manuela was never so glad to see a church in her life.

"Sister Sarah Elizabeth!" she called pushing open the heavy oak doors of the beautiful chapel. The stained glass poured in the sunlight of midday, splattering the oak pews in color like spilled paint. The golden alter featuring the Christ towered at the front over a hundred lit candles.

"One moment!" called a young English accent before mumbling a few more prayers. Manuela came up to the slim young freckled faced nun who wore the gray habit of noviciation over her strawberry blond curls. A handsome young priest entered the room and smiled at Manuela who nodded back. When he had gone, Manuela noticed Sister Sarah staring at where the priest had gone with a dreamy look on her face.

"Praying for strength Sister?" Manuela asked.

"Strength for what?" asked Sister Sarah finishing her prayer by crossing herself. As she rose to her feet, Manuela smirked,

"Against temptation."

"I do not know what you mean." Sister Sarah said stiffly. Hand on her hips, Manuela teased her childhood friend,

"When your family died on the crossing from England and you were sent to the orphanage here, you started taking your vows before you even knew what a man was. I'm just saying curiosity will one day get the better of you."

"You should talk. Men go into confession because of you...and not because they had a good time!" Sister Sarah quipped.

"Well I'm changing all of that. I'm going to pick a husband by All Soul's Day." Manuela told her.

"What?! So soon?" asked the nun.

"Why not?" shrugged Manuela.

"Well...marriage is something holy and scared. And not something to be rushed into!" Sister Sarah explained.

"I'll know what man is for me if he's right. Besides...that's what long engagements are for! Now where's Pedro? I need him to do some snooping for me." Manuela said as Sister Sarah smiled and sighed,

"He's out playing with the Finnegan boys...And getting into trouble knowing him."

"There it is _Muchachos..._The house of Erik Bordeaux..._El Desperado..._He killed Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield so he could steal their house and move in." a dark skinned boy with wild black hair and eyes told his two fair skinned toe headed friends.

"Why does he need their house Pedro?" asked Michael Finnegan, the oldest of the brothers at the ripe old age of ten.

"He's going to rob the bank." Pedro answered.

"Then why didn't he kill Mr. Green the barber or Mr. Murphy the druggist? Their houses are over their shops and they're right next to the bank." asked Tommy Finnegan the younger but sometimes smarter of the pair.

"That would be too suspicious! But here on the other side of town, no one will suspect a thing. And since the Fairfield family cemetery is behind their house...no one will suspect the sound of digging." Pedro said.

"He's digging?" asked Michael.

"A tunnel to the bank and an escape tunnel under the cemetery. Once he robs the bank, he'll collapse the tunnel and half the town with it. He's evil." Pedro said shaking his head.

"What makes you think he's a robber?" asked Michael skeptically.

"He wears a mask. All bad guys wear masks. Besides, why else would he buy a house with dead people in the back yard?" Pedro replied.

"It was the only house for sale?" Tommy suggested.

"But now that we all know...we have to stop him. Our money is at stake." Pedro said looking up at the old brownstone manor.

"Don't you mean our parent's money?" asked Michael.

"I'm a ward of the state. When I'm twenty one I'll get a $1500 trust fund my Grandfather left me." Pedro explained.

"So what's the plan?" asked Tommy.

"I shall take the risk of getting Old Man Bordeaux outside to chase me. Once I'm clear you two dash inside and find some physical evidence." Pedro said.

"What's evidence?" asked Tommy innocently.

"Why do we have to go inside?" asked Michael indignantly.

"In order for a case to hold up in court, two eyewitnesses are ideal. Now...wait here." Pedro commanded standing to his feet. He stepped out of the bush he was hiding in and walked up to the old iron gate. It opened with a protesting squeak as he stepped inside.

"There goes the bravest man I know." Tommy said in awe.

Pedro walked up the cobblestone path overgrown with weeds. The yard was filled with overgrown marigold bushes, old birdbaths and leaves from the past two years. He took a few pebbles from the ground, weighed them in his hand and then launched one by one at the house using a slingshot. But the fifth pebble was unfortunate enough to crash through a window. Pedro tried to run, but he crashed into a white blouse and a set of green skirts. Manuela grabbed Pedro's upper arm and dragged him towards the house without a word. Pedro looked over his shoulder to see his two companions running away, so he dug his feet vainly into the ground as he protested,

"No Manuela no! Old Man Bordeaux will kill us! Manuela! Manuela!"

"Well you should have thought of that before you broke his window! Now come!" Manuela yelled. She dragged him up to the wooden front porch and knocked on the door. After a few minutes, she knocked again. When no one came, she knocked again as Pedro chuckled nervously,

"Well...guess he's not home!"

Manuela yanked him back by the shirt collar and tried the door knob,

"He's probably hard of hearing. Come."

They stepped inside, their ears met immediately with haunting music. The once grand foyer with it's grand staircase laid before them. The heavy curtains blocked out all the light and the place was a mess of cobwebs, dust and crates and crates left by the movers.

"Manuela..." whispered Pedro pleadingly.

"Shush...This way." Manuela said following the music almost in a trance. She found herself before a large set of double doors. She opened one and she and a reluctant Pedro peeked inside. It was a grand ballroom, the light from the sun once again blocked from sight, a slight chill in the air. A roaring fire was lit, cashing shadows on the wall. A black grand piano sat at the end of the room, a figure hunched over and dancing his hands over the key masterfully and animatedly. His broad back was to them as Manuela gathered her courage and called out,

"Excuse me? Senor Bordeaux?"

The notes turned sour and the man jumped up to his feet, knocking the bench over with a echoing thud. Manuela gasped. She had been expecting an old man, but this man was in his thirties at most, with wavy black hair and dark piecing blue green eyes. But what she noticed the most was the white leather mask he worn on half his handsome, chiseled features. He glared at her and growled,

"What are you doing in here?"

"Oh...so you're Mr. Bordeaux...I was expecting someone older..." Manuela said liking the cut of his dark blue suit.

"And I was expecting an explanation, Mademoiselle." he hissed, his native French accent coming through.

"I'm sorry...the door was unlocked and no one answered..." Manuela started to explain.

"Because I wasn't expecting nor wanting company." Bordeaux announced folding his arms.

"I understand Senor...but this bold impetuous boy broke your window, and I brought him here to let you know he will work for you to pay for it." Manuela explained.

"I will?" asked Pedro.

"You will."

"I value privacy more than I do a window. Now good day Mademoiselle." the man said turning from her to gather his music sheets.

"We can't let him get away with what he did Sir. He must learn his lesson!" Manuela protested.

"No I don't." Pedro said.

"Shush!"

"There you heard the boy. He doesn't need to learn his lesson. You however Mademoiselle?..." Bordeaux said searching for a name.

"Manuela Montevilla. I live at the vineyard on the hill." she told him not knowing why she told him that.

"Mam'selle Montevilla, you need to learn when you've worn out your welcome!" he said stomping up to her and grabbing her by the upper arm.

"What are you doing?!" Manuela demanded as they entered the main foyer once more.

"Teaching you that when a host even a reluctant one asks a guest, even an uninvited one to leave...They leave! Not get out!" Bordeaux yelled shoving Manuela and Pedro outside to the porch and slamming the door. After a moment, Pedro looked up at the stunned Manuela and said,

"Told ya."


	3. October 30

Oct 30, 1876

Manuela knew it was scandalous, but she could not stop thinking about M. Erik Bordeaux as she undressed the next evening. Why would a young man, especially one in the prime of his life, sentence himself to the life of a hermit? True he was not as handsome as Alejandro or some other men she had met. He certainly was not as built from sports or gentleman games. His physique was built of a different nature...slimmer, agile...like a cat.

Speaking of cats she took a moment to pet her cat Midnight asleep on her bed. Her thoughts drifted back to the Frenchmen like her eyes drifted to the window where she happened to seek out the back of his house at the bottom of the hill. It was his eyes, she concluded. He had eyes that dove into the depths of her soul and lingered there. He had such haunting, passionate, pain filled eyes. Yet just underneath there was a layer of joy and hope trying to surface. It all mystified her.

She thought of his hands and the way they moved on the keyboard. She bit her lip and giggled at the thought of those hands giving a repeat performance on her body. Then her face fell when she thought of his reaction towards her. It was almost as if he was afraid of her so he puffed himself up to scare her off. But Manuela was a smart woman. She could tell when she was being tricked. But why was he afraid of her? Had some other woman driven him into the shadows to hide? Was it because of what laid under that mask of his? That had to be it. That mask was the key to the whole puzzlement that was Erik Bordeaux.

* * *

Downstairs, Maria was putting the finishing touches on one of her costumes and Don Ricardo was watching the night skyline at the window. He stood feet apart, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him, regal and erect. He could hear the faint catcalls and whooping and hollering of the young men of Heaven's Corner. He harrumphed,

"Hmm! When I was young, _Los Dias de Los Muertos _was not a time to get drunk the night before. These young men have no self control and nothing better to do!"

Maria shivered slightly,

"They scare me sometimes...Remember last year when that young woman was compromised and everyone knew one of those boys was the father but none would come forward? I'm glad Manuela is in here. Do you see why Manuela won't marry any of them?"

Ricardo sighed,

"I just want her to be happy. I pray to the Virgin that she would send Manuela a man of God and of substance. But where is that man to be found Maria? Where?"

Erik sighed and sputtered his lips as he crumpled up his fifth draft of his letter. He took up his pen, a fresh blank sheet and began again,

'_Dear Mlle.Montevilla, _

_I apologize for my rude and inappropriate behavior when you came into my house unannounced...'_

"No!" Erik said crumpling up his sixth attempt. He truly was a monster. He couldn't even write a note of apology. Curse his weakness for beautiful women! He hadn't stopped thinking of her long wavy black hair or her full rosy pout all day. He didn't know what he hoped to accomplish with one letter, but he had to do something.

Erik frowned in annoyance when he heard the young bucks of the town carry on practically beneath his window. Erik didn't think he'd be moving to a place where a graveyard was a gathering place for a pint. Then again he didn't think he'd own a house with it's own graveyard but it was somehow fitting and it had been the only house for sale in Heaven's Corner. He stood to stretch his legs, absentmindedly looking out the window at the house up the hill. He saw but one light on and wondered if it were hers.

* * *

It had been a moment of insanity. Sheer brilliance and utter insanity. She wanted to be a good Christian and prove her forgiveness of Mr. Bordeaux's actions by inviting him to the fiesta. After all everyone else was invited. It wasn't because she wanted to dive into those beautiful pools that were his eyes again. Before she knew it, the card stock laid before her, the ink drying and the wax growing hot beside her. She bit her bottom lip wondering when she should have it delivered. Tomorrow morning would be too late to be polite and now it was too late to have someone else deliver it. Someone else.

Before the wax seal even cooled on the paper, Manuela had taken up a cloak and fastened it tight. She peeked out the door, listening for the servants and finding her parents candle had yet to be extinguished as proved by the crack of light under their door. She waited an eternity of a minute before it vanished. She stepped out cautiously, shut her door quietly and finding no other spot, tucked the invitation securely in her bosom. She cursed every creak on the stairs and dashed out into the dead of night.

The night air was cool and crisp and Manuela actually thought it refreshing and invigorating. Until she reached the border of her parent's property. She looked back towards the darkened _villa_ in the distance, biting her bottom lip and considering going back. But one thought of Erik Bordeaux's gemstone eyes made her turn her back on her house and her fears and march forward. Her boots gave off a confident crunch crunch crunch along the dirt and gravel road down the hill. The desert flowers were tucked away in their flower beds for the night, covered with a blanket of twinkling stars that comforted Manuela. She smiled and sighed in content, happy to keep her eyes on those stars when she suddenly heard before her,

"_Buenos noches_ Manuela."

She gasped in fright as several of the young men from town, whiskey and _tequila _on their breaths, formed a semi-circle around Manuela. Alejandro Garcia chuckled and said,

"How about joining our own little _fiesta_ Manuela? You can be the...entertainment!"

* * *

Erik was feeling drowsy, but he blinked his eyes open as he sat before the fire, pen and paper in hand, determined to write a proper apology to the young Mlle. Montevilla. Suddenly, he heard a woman's scream from outside followed by several whoops and hollers of the drunken young men. Sensing something horribly wrong, Erik sprang to his feet, suddenly wide awake as he out of pure instinct went to investigate. He grabbed his black hooded cloak and draped it around his shoulders as he went into his kitchen and out the back door. His backyard was surrounded by a high brick wall, meant to block the view of the graveyard. He had to climb on the four foot wall to get a good view of anything. The graveyard was on a slight incline, the moonlight bathing the stones in shadows. But it also brought to light the scene of Manuela Montevilla running from a wild bunch of drunks like little boys wanting to tie tin cans to a dogs tail. She screamed again, her terror evident. Then she tripped on a small child's headstone and fell to the ground her skirts wrapping themselves up on her thighs. The men slowed down, leering their eyes at the sight of her soft, white flesh. Manuela tried to get up, but a pain in her side refused to cooperate. She tried to scoot away, but that only made the men chuckle. Alejandro said cheerfully,

"Time to play Manuela." Manuela gasped when back collided with a tall headstone, the meager shadow doing nothing to hide her. Then out of nowhere, the men looked up and gasped as a tall figure in a black hood and cape jumped down from the headstone, the fabric blowing up and illuminating his dark appearance. The men gasped and Alejandro was the first to be knocked down with a bloody nose. Snapping out of their stupor, the others lunged for the figure, punching and reaching, only to succeed in getting gut checked, elbows in the face and stomachs, punches across the jaw and busted lips. Too drunk to realize they outnumbered him and too dumb to put up much of a fight, (or was that the other way around?), they began to run off, clutching their injuries and tucking their tails between their legs. The last to leave was Alejandro. He was far more sober and clever than the others and declared to the figure with hate in his eye,

"This isn't over." Alejandro limped off leaving Manuela to tremble in the sight of her rescuer. The figure turned into the moonlight, illuminating his dark blue green eyes and white leather mask.

"Senor Bordeaux!" gasped Manuela. He nodded and then stopped short at the sight of her thigh. He had seen little of women's thighs or any sort of flesh in his lifetime so it was understandable when he immediately began to physically react. She looked so vulnerable that moment. Then he shook himself and asked her,

"Are you alright?"

Slightly disappointed he didn't act on the desire she had seen in his eye (_So he isn't that much of a hermit! _she thought) Manuela nodded,

"I think so..." she tried to sit up but she hissed in pain and shook her head, "But then again I could be mistaken. Ow..."

Erik immediately knelt beside her and examined the place where she was clutching her side. She relaxed with his hand and when he spoke saying with authority,

"You may have bruised your side badly. I won't know anything until I can examine you at the house. Can you walk?"

At this point Manuela evaluated that she could get up and limp with a little help, but she couldn't resist the wicked impulse when she looked up at him with big, innocent eyes and said meekly,

"I don't think I can...At least not for the moment."

Erik, completely unaware he was being set up, nodded his head and hooked one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders,

"Then I shall have to carry you then."

He stated it, Manuela realized along with the fact it didn't seem to occur to him like any other gentleman to ask her permission before touching her in such an intimate manner. As if he didn't fully grasp the proprieties being men and women. Not that Manuela was complaining. She delighted at the feeling of being lifted in his arms, the muscles in his back tensing and moving under her fingertips. She merely let him carry her all the way back to his house. She allowed herself the fantasy of pretending to be bride for a moment as he carried her across the threshold of his kitchen door. And she surprised herself at liking the idea. He carried her out the kitchen and down a dusty old gallery hall lined with abandoned paintings from the Fairfields. He shifted her in his arms to open the door of his parlor, where his fire still blazed with life. He set her gently on the settee and placed a few pillows behind her back. He straightened, allowing Manuela to see how tall he was as he said,

"I'll leave you a moment to undo your...garments...so I can examine your injury."

"Oh there's no need. I'm not wearing much beside my blouse and my skirts." Manuela stated before blushing at the way that sounded. But none so more than her host who turned his masked half to her to hide his own reddening. But she merely smiled and shifted, pulling her shirt out of her skirts and pulling it up to a decent level to show him her left side. Concentrating on the large red bruise he saw, Erik kneeled on the floor beside her and gently poked and prodded the sensitive skin. She shivered in delight at his touch but he didn't see. He made a noncommittal noise in his throat and told her,

"I don't think anything's cracked or broken...I'd just keep an eye on that. I'll get you a ice compress to make any swelling go down." He stood and went to his liquor cabinet and opened it, allowing her to see little spirits but some fine Merlot, port and brandy. He pulled out a half melted bucket of ice and took out his own handkerchief from his breast coat pocket. Wrapping and twisting the ice inside of the cloth, Erik continued to tell her,

"Massage it when you can...but only if it doesn't hurt..."He stopped when he turned back to her, his actions halted by the smug smile on her face. "What?" he inquired. She shrugged,

"It's nothing...Well except that over twenty four hours ago you acted like a rampaging lion towards me...and now you're being a little lamb. Such an interesting contrast you are Monsieur."

Erik looked down and cleared his throat,

"Well now that you mention it I was trying to write you a letter of apology when I heard your cries for help." He walked over to her casually and handed her the cold bundle without another word. She took it and allowed her index finger to brush his,

"I suppose saving my life is apology enough."

He gave her the smallest lift of the upper corner of his mouth before becoming a nervous pile of bones again. Manuela placed the ice pack on her side and continued,

"Sincerely M. Bordeaux..._Gracias_ for saving me. The last man on Earth I want touching me is Alejandro Garcia let alone any of his lackeys!"

Intrigued by her sudden outburst of emotion, Erik asked,

"I take it you do not tolerate his presence even when he is sober."

Manuela smiled and said dryly,

"I cannot stand men who think they are God's gift to women and the world should be handed over to them. It's why I'm not married yet."

Trying to not sound overjoyed over this new information, Erik commented as he sat in an armchair across from her,

"Oh?"

"Of course that causes nothing but grief to my father." Manuela said examining her bruise herself.

"Speaking of which, does Monsieur Montevilla know his daughter was roaming around outside at this time of night?" Erik asked with a smirk, already knowing the answer. Manuela grinned,

"Of course not. He's in bed like all good fathers are suppose to be."

"Would that make you a bad daughter?" Erik asked folding his fingers together and slumping in his chair. Manuela grinned. Was he flirting with her? Did he even realize it? He looked so relaxed and sure of himself. She replied,

"Only if he catches me in the morning."

Disappointment evident, Erik straightened and said,

"Of course...I'll escort you home."

"Oh no! No one in the house gets up till dawn. I'll be fine to stay the night." Manuela protested. Erik gulped and asked,

"Stay the night?"

"If you'll allow it...Truly...I'm exhausted and I can see the house from the window. No one is up and nor will they be. Besides, I fear what would happen if we should venture back out there. They could return. I don't want to risk either of our necks for something that can wait till dawn when all those fools are passed out drunk and nursing hangovers. Please...may I stay with you?" Manuela asked nervously. Erik was stunned to stay the least. Did that just happen? Did a woman ask if she could stay? With him!? He glanced up and caught the fire light dancing about in her eyes. What color were they anyway? They seemed blue, but they looked more like a winter's sky. And he always loved winter.

"You seem to be making a habit of welcoming yourself into my home, Mam'selle." Erik said with a small smirk. Manuela smiled, figuring that was a 'yes'. She told him,

"At least this time the reception was more receptive." They sat in silence a moment or two, Erik not entirely sure what to do now. He never really had guests before. Unless you count that one night in Paris. But he knew that guest. Manuela Montevilla was a puzzle to him. Then it occurred to him she might not be comfortable sleeping on the settee so he asked,

"Would you like to be shown to a room? Obviously I have no use for them all."

"Do you not have any relatives coming to visit you for the upcoming holidays?" Manuela asked, trying to sound innocent and not prying. Erik's eyes darkened and he stood up, occupying himself with the poker and the fire.

"No." he said simply. Manuela had read the story of the little girl Alice and her Wonderland. If that story taught anything beyond the nonsense, it was that curious little girls could easily get in trouble. Despite this warning, or perhaps because of it, Manuela asked,

"So...Will you be going to visit them?"

Erik's poker paused,

"I don't have any family."

"Oh, my condolences." she said with sympathy. Erik glared at her and snapped at her,

"Why? Not that there was anyone to mourn anyway. So you needn't feel sorry for me losing a family I never knew."

"You're an orphan?" she asked.

"I suppose that is what you'd call it." Erik said refocusing on the fire.

"Well, that mean's you should mourn all the more." Manuela stated. Erik looked at her incredulously,

"What the devil for? My mother disowned me as her parents disowned her. I don't even know about my father. Why should I mourn people who cast me aside?"

"For the sake of their immortal souls of course. That is what _Los Dios De Los Muertos _is all about." Manuela stated.

"_Dios de los..._Am I rusty on my Spanish or did you just say 'Days of the Dead'?" Erik asked.

"No you're right. I suppose not too many people know of it in Europe. It's sort of sprang up from the native people of Mexico when they were converted to Catholics by Spain. It's our annual festival for the spirits of those who past on. We pray for those who were lost before they knew the Christ, we remember loved ones, we have feasts and games and dancing..." Manuela explained.

"And it's all in celebration of...death?" Erik asked skeptically.

"It's a celebration of life! Both in the here and now and the eternal life that await all those who follow Jesus Christ. Here in Heaven's Corner, my family hosts a huge _fiesta _for the whole town. It's starts tomorrow night! We dress in costumes, we visit the graveyards..."

"Whoa...whoa...I'm not a superstitious man but the people who, if you can call it that, 'raised' me always taught me that tomorrow is All Hallow's Eve...a day to be feared because the dead return to Earth to prey on the living." Erik interrupted taking a seat before her.

"The dead do return to Earth...but to reunite with their loved ones for just a short while until they are all together in Heaven again. We go to the graveyard every year to visit them and bring _ofrendas. _We also build alters to the dead in our home to honor our loved ones and bid them welcome if they feel like stopping by for a visit."

"Alters? Offerings? Graveyard visits? At night?" Erik asked with a pause after each question to which Manuela nodded enthusiastically each time. Erik raised his eyebrows and blinked in confusion as he took it all in.

"In France, you would be considered a very morbid young lady." Erik finally said. Manuela giggled,

"I am merely doing what I have been raised. You know...everyone in Heaven's Corner has picked up on the traditions of the Day of the Dead...You can too." Manuela hinted. Erik cast her a skeptically side glance. He knew she would say such a thing.

"And how is that pray tell? Dress up as a rum soaked, half baked Caribbean cockney pirate and lead the parade down main street?" he asked sarcastically. She giggled at the image he created and said,

"As entertaining as that would be, I think you might start off by putting up an alter."

"Alright, I give. How does one build such an alter?" Erik asked dryly so as to humor her.

"Well you take some pictures of the Saints for All Saint's Day of course, that is the second day of the festival...Then you take some flowers, some _calavera_ dolls, pictures and mementos of those who have moved on..."

Erik interrupted her,

"Ah, but you forget Mam'selle...I have no one to mourn."

Manuela nodded and then looked up above the fireplace,

"Perhaps you could mourn the Fairfields."

Erik looked up at the old portrait of the old couple in the painting. A petite elegant old woman and a gruff looking but frizzle faced gray fellow with a beard. They almost looked comical. Their eyes did hold a lot of warmth though.

"Who were they? The former owners?" Erik asked.

"Oh, they were so much more. They were the backbone of the town. Mr. Fairfield ran the railway station you see. Every family in Heaven's Corner has a story about how Mr. Fairfield convinced them or their immigrant ancestors looking for a home to settle here. He was so kind and treated everyone as equals. Mrs. Fairfield could never have children you see, so they just...treated the whole town like family. My papa said Mr. Fairfield knew that the secret to Utopia was to include everyone and exclude no one and to celebrate each others cultures. Mrs. Fairfield was the same. They brought the whole town together. When Mr. Fairfield didn't come into work one morning, we soon found out they had both died the same night...in each others arms. And they were smiling!" Manuela finished with a warm laugh looking up at the old couple.

"To die in the arms of the one you love...a dream I dare not even entertain..." Erik said looking up at the portrait in thought. Instead of asking, 'why', Manuela chose the safer route and suggested,

"You know, as much as they loved the whole town, they always wanted a son. Maybe if you mourn them, you could be the son they never had."

Erik looked at her,

"But they're dead."

"During the Day of the Dead...that isn't such an issue." Manuela shrugged. Erik looked up at the portrait again, then to his guest,

"So how else would I celebrate the Day of the Dead?"

"Well...now that you mention it..."Manuela started nervously. She pulled out the crumpled and forgotten invitation with a blush and handed it to him. Erik audibly gulped this time, trying not to think of that heavenly corner the invitation had come from. He broke the wax seal, read the contents with a frown and looked up at her in confusion,

"You...invited me?"

"Well...I did say everyone in town was invited." Manuela said.

"Is this why you risked going out tonight?" Erik asked holding up the invitation.

"I foolishly thought there was no risk involved...except incurring your wrath." Manuela quipped.

"So...this invitation was your way of trying to apologize?" Erik asked knowingly. She hadn't wanted to admit it before, not even to herself. Her pride wouldn't admit it. But cornered now, she nodded and said,

"I suppose it is."

Erik gave a small smile and tapped the letter in his fingertips as she awaited judgment, rejection or both. He sighed and said dejectedly,

"You realize you've crashed my home once with an invitation and once without. Now I have my invitation so this simply means I shall have to crash your home once to make us even."

His playful comment brought a beaming smile to her lips,

"It's only fair."

Erik glanced at the clock and saw that over an hour had passed. Where did the time go? Did he really just spend an hour having an animate conversation with a woman? Talk about walking on foreign ground. He cleared his throat and said,

"You must be tired...I'll show you to a room."

"Oh no I'm wide awake now. Besides I wouldn't dare impose." Manuela protested.

"I think we're past that point." Erik quipped.

"Besides...I'm rather comfy and cozy here before the fire...I imagine all your other rooms are freezing. Not that I mind I sleep better when it's cold. But I wouldn't mind sitting up a while and talking." Manuela said.

"Talking? With me?" Erik asked with disbelief.

"Well I could talk with the Fairfields but knowing Mrs. Fairfield she'd scold me for leaving you out of the conversation." Manuela said earning a rare short chuckle from Erik. Then she stunned him by reaching out and taking his hand,

"Stay and talk with me? Unless you are tired yourself?"

Not believing this beautiful creature truly wanted his company and not wanting to ruin it by walking out, Erik shook his head and said,

"I've always been a night person anyway..."

* * *

They talked for hours after that, even when sleep threatened to claim them with droopy eyelids and fearsome yawns. The last thing Erik remembered clearly was Manuela yawning quiet comically and the thought that this had to be a dream.

He did dream in fact. Of his house, only the gardens were tended to and the curtains were drawn open letting warm candlelight from each room shine out sending a feeling of warmth and welcome into Erik's soul. He walked in the house and found the house decorated with thousands of marigolds and candles. A short man with a frizzled gray beard, warm brown eyes and a delightful smile stood in the hall adjusting the old Grandfather clock. He smiled at Erik and cried out, his voice in a near ethereal echo,

"Erik my boy! Right on time! Mother has been cooking up a feast for you!"

Looking down at the man who was nearly two heads shorter, Erik asked,

"Mother?"

Then a petite elegant old woman in a black dress and a silver bun waddled in from the kitchen, her apron covered in chocolate icing and her forehead smeared with flour.

"Erik! Oh my dear is that you? Oh we've been waiting so long to finally meet you! Welcome to our home! We hope you'll like it here!" She said standing on her tip toes to kiss Erik's left cheek and hug his neck a bit.

"I'm sure I will..." Erik said with tears in his eyes and the smell of warm fresh baked bread filling his nose.

* * *

A rooster crowed outside and Erik was pulled from his fantasy world by the bright blinding sun. He sat up in the plush wingback chair and his back immediately protested. He rubbed the offense and looked up to the portrait of the Fairfields before casting his eyes to the settee. Manuela Montevilla was nowhere to be found. Just another dream. He stood to his feet and sighed, ready to live out another lonely day, when the smell of fresh baked beard reached his nose. He followed the scent to the dining room he never used and found a wondrous sight waiting for him. Every surface was dusted, the candles were all lit and a collection of bright paper flowers, crucifics and pictures of the saints, marigolds, old pictures of the Fairfields, and tiny and large skeleton dolls with silly grins and sillier garb sat on the dining room table at various heights and levels, propped up by books and boxes under a draped piece of old velvet. There were also two bowls of steaming baked bread on the table, each loaf cut into slices. Beside them were two open jars of cherry jam. And Erik smirked when he found a note written in the same handwriting he saw on an invitation last night.

'_Senor Bordeaux, _

_Never have I been so refreshed after so little sleep. I spent the better part before dawn cooking one loaf for your breakfast, the other for the Fairfields and any other 'guests' that decide to visit. Eat and hurry to the market when you can, for I could use a man's opinion in planning the last few details before tonight. Besides you do want your handkerchief back don't you? Thank you again._

_Sincerely, _

_Senorita Manuela A. M. Montevilla' _


	4. October 31

_**Author's Note: Happy Halloween!**_

_**peace, love and lipgloss, **_

_**Mlle.Fox**

* * *

_

October 31, 1876 

"I can't believe you went back there!" exclaimed Pedro in shock. Manuela shrugged at her young friend,

"He turned out to be quite pleasant."

"But Manuela he's so weird! And he'll never come here today." Pedro told her as he followed her around the crowded and bustling marketplace. Manuela sighed, her lips forming a small pout. After talking with all the local shopkeepers this morning, Manuela discovered that Erik Bordeaux never left his house. Everyone saw him once when he arranged to have his groceries, his laundry, and other packages delivered to his house. Then they hadn't seen him since. Manuela was just about to give up hope when a lightly accented baritone spoke over her shoulder,

"Good day Mlle. Monteville."

She and Pedro spun around to look at Erik; Manuela in delight, Pedro in shock. He had a gray Panama cocked over his right profile (the side with the mask, Manuela noted) with an impeccable gray and crème suit to match. He wore a gentle but nervous smile, his gray gloved hands twisting the silver tip of his cane violently. Seeing him in the daylight, Manuela saw his pale countenance and knew this was not a man who spent much time outdoors. She stepped forward and smiled with a nod of her head,

"Good Day Senor Bordeaux. Pedro and I are glad you could join us."

Erik raised a brow up to hide in the rim of his hat. He looked down at the boy with a stubborn look upon his face and said,

"Yes I heard how thrilled Pedro was about the prospect. Perhaps...I can persuade him with a little magic..."

Pedro looked suspiciously at the man who got down to one knee before him with Manuela curious about what he would do. His cane tucked under his arm, Erik waved his hands in front of Pedro's wide eyed face before pulling seamlessly from mid air a bright shiny silver dollar.

"WOW!" Pedro exclaimed snatching the coin from his fingers.

"Very good Sir. How did you do that?" Manuela asked with a laugh. Standing to his feet and brushing off the dirt from his pants, Erik said,

"Magic."

"You're not going to tell me are you?" Manuela asked putting her hands on her hips. Erik smirked at her and said,

"No I'll let Pedro try to figure that one out. He's a clever lad."

Pedro beamed from Erik's praise and said,

"Gee...guess a desperado wouldn't do magic tricks...or give me money!"

"Well shall we get back to planning this fiesta or what?" Manuela asked.

"I'll save us a spot in line at Mrs. Periwigs!" Pedro said running ahead.

Erik and Manuela stood there a moment, gazing at each other before Erik finally offered his arm and said,

"Shall we?"

"But of course." Manuela beamed. As they started off, Erik furrowed his brow and asked Manuela,

"Desperado?"

She giggled, oblivious to the fact that glowering at the both of them was Alejandro Garcia. He was leaning on the wall of the local saloon, arms folded, jaw clenched in rage.

"What does she see in that Frog? He wears a mask to cover half his face for God's sake." Alejandro huffed to his companion.

"Ooh...not so loud Alejandro...I still have a hangover you know." his friend said clutching his head. Alejandro grabbed his collar and hissed,

"Miguel! Mark my words! Manuela will be in my bed by All Saint's Day and that masked freak shall be shipped back to France..." Then he glared again at Erik's broad back and whispered, "In pieces..."

* * *

"Wow! How about this one? Ooh Manuela look at this one over here!" Pedro said jumping about. Erik and Manuela watched him bemused from their spot in line. Erik whispered to her, 

"You would think he already had sugar."

Manuela giggled as they stepped forward to the counter. A happy, lithe woman was Mrs. Periwig, with flour encrusted hair and large brown eyes smiling at them both and greeting them in a Cockney accent of East London.

"Hello Manuela! Lovely to see you again...and Mister...my word...Mister Bordeaux isn't it?"

Annoyed at the woman's shocked gaping expression, Erik simply said,

"Yes...Something amiss Madame?"

"No sir...isn't just...Haven't seen you for weeks...Thought we'd never see you. It's not too often a man orders one of my chocolate truffles daily and never comes round to praise them. Thought I was losing my touch!" Mrs. Periwig said with a laugh.

Trying not to burn red as Manuela smirked at him, Erik heard his female companion say,

"We have a sweet tooth do we? We'll I think you'll like what I'm having Mrs. Periwig whip up for us tomorrow evening then. Here you are Mrs. P...the list of all I need."

Mrs. Periwig took the list from Manuela's outstretched hand and said,

"Thank you Manuela. I'll get to putting the finishing touches on them...Oh...I see you've added another one..."

"Shh...it's a surprise!" Manuela said with a pointed nod to Erik. Mrs. Periwig mouth form an 'O' and she smiled,

"Then I'll just step into the back and not say another word! Good day to you both. Nice seeing you again Mr. Bordeaux."

When she had gone, Erik looked at the departing Manuela and followed her saying,

"What was that all about?"

"Tell me how you did that magic trick and I'll tell you. Otherwise wait till tomorrow." Manuela told him with a teasing grin. Erik couldn't help but feel the corner of his lips pull up.

_'A woman after my own heart ...A blackmailer..._" he thought to himself as Manuela lead him and Pedro to their next stop.

* * *

After every visit, the townspeople of Heaven's Corner found themselves wondering how in the world did Manuela Montevilla coax the reclusive newcomer M. Bordeaux out of the old Fairfield house. Then one look at her beaming smile and hearing her laugh over his jokes they soon figured it out. And that made them gossip all the more. 

"Here." Manuela said as they stopped by a vendor selling flowers. Looking at the small orange blossom being tucked into his lapel, Erik furrowed his brow and asked curiously,

"A marigold? Whatever for?"

"We call them _zempoalxochitl_ or _Flor de Muerto._ Flowers for the Dead. Because they survive most of the year and well after the first frost, they symbolize life after death. I'm confirming my order with Mr. Gerald here so I can be sure we have practically an entire field of flowers for the dead." Manuela explained. The scruffy Scotsman replied,

"They'll be sent to your house this afternoon Miss."

"Thank you Senor. Well...now we just have to meet with Father Rodriguez about the Blessings." Manuela said turning her sights toward the church. When she said this, Erik stopped dead in his tracks. Noticing his behavior, Manuela turned and added, "Well? Are you coming?"

"I'd rather stay out here, thank you." Erik said stiffly.

"Whatever for? It is rather warm out here today. You would be much cooler inside." Manuela said shaking her head.

"In all honesty Mam'selle...I don't do...churches..." Erik told her. Manuela nodded, then put her hands over Pedro's ears and said softly,

"Well...Senor Bordeaux, in all honesty...I don't do men who don't do churches!"

Erik gaped at her in shock, and managed to stutter out,

"Wha...what?!"

"You heard me. Senor Bordeaux, if you have any intentions to start courting me you might as well know I only am interested in devoted men of God. You don't have to be perfect, you certainly can't be a hypocrite...but I will not waste time with a man at odds with our Father. Now I will give you a little time to develop this relationship but at the moment I must attend to my seeking out the Priest to discuss the blessings." She took her hands off Pedro's ears and told the boy, "Come along Pedro. Help me find Father Rodriguez."

They turned into the white building, leaving Erik to gape after them, his brows knit in confusion. Had he heard that correctly? Manuela expected Erik to start courting her? After only knowing each other a day?! He couldn't even believe she wanted to court him let alone her expecting him to act so quickly. She obviously knew something he didn't. With a sigh he realized that would be God.

"_Alright..._"Erik prayed, "_I'll try this whole...relationship thing with you...I guess I'll be begging forgiveness of my sins sooner or later so it might as well be now." _

It was a half hearted prayer with even less sincerity, but it was just enough to get Erik comfortable into stepping into the church, trying to find Manuela.

The smell of hot wax filled his nostrils. For the middle of the day, the small chapel was ablaze with candlelight and shadows from the closed shutters danced on the walls. The muted colors of the few stained glass windows skimmed his feet as he went up the main aisle towards the simple craved oak pulpit. The pews stood at attention like soldiers and at the heart of the church was a simple organ with a craving of the dying Christ displayed, his sad eyes turned towards heaven.

Somehow the church was not as pretentious as he had thought it would be. For it should be known that before his dealings with the gypsies, Erik was for a time raised by his mother. And like all mothers, she tried to educate him. Which included tutorials from the local priest. Looking back, Erik began to recall that the priest he dealt with had not been a bad man nor one you could call a hypocrite. But being the mischievous little boy Erik had been, he delighted in torturing the poor man just so that he would be allowed to play on the piano after the priest left in a huff. Erik figured the priest he had dealt with only began annoying and scaring him with talk of hell, fire and brimstone only because he was frustrated Erik made no confession or proclamation of Christ. And over the years that left Erik with a bad taste in his mouth for the church.

But now Erik realized that he really had never been a part of the church, nor had he given it much of a chance. Maybe he would start attending church. Even if it were only to become a part of humanity for one day out of the week. Surely God would give him that.

"Erik! Oh Erik!" called Manuela. Erik's eyes scanned the shadows and he found her to the left of the pulpit by the confessionals. And speaking to a man in his late forties with graying amber hair and the black clothes and white collar that proclaimed his holy calling. The man smiled gently as Erik approached and gave him a slight nod as Manuela introduced them,

"Father Giorgio Rodriguez, I'd like to introduce M. Erik Bordeaux, newly arrived from Paris. France not Texas."

"Ah, such a long way from your native land Monsieur. What brings you here? A business venture or a fanciful whim?" the Father asked shaking Erik's hand.

Erik answered cryptically,

"I have my reasons."

The priest merely nodded and let it go at that changing the subject,

"We'll Manuela has certainly told me more about you than what drifts up to the pulpit."

"People...have spoken of me?" Erik asked.

"More of a speculation of who you are rather than anything ill, I assure you. In fact Pedro seems to have been the only one who though you up to no good, but as you and I are both aware his opinion has been altered. No, I believe the consensus last Sunday was you were the son of a rich general in Napoleon's army and you had to flee France during the siege of Paris." Father Rodriguez said.

"I'm afraid to disappoint them, but I'm an orphan and a self made man." Erik said with slight annoyance seeping through.

"Well, no family background might deter half of the dowagers looking to marry their daughters off." the priest smiled. Erik grew confused,

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Do not worry about it Senor Bordeaux. All you need to know if that I will deter the other half." Manuela said giving the Father a wink. Father Rodriguez shook his head good naturedly at Manuela's obvious meaning and Erik's oblivious naiveté, when suddenly a great shout came from above followed by several loud thumps.

"What in the name of heaven!?" the Priest said running off to investigate, Manuela and Erik hot on his heels. Sister Sarah Elizabeth opened a door and cried out,

"It's Mister Crawford Father! He's fallen down the steps of the bell tower!"

"Go fetch Doctor Webber. Hurry!" Rodriguez ordered brushing past the nun who ran out of the church. They followed the sound of a man's painful howling. Erik almost laughed when they came on the scene. A tall, handsome lanky man was sitting at the foot of the stairs clutching his ankle as Pedro exclaimed,

"He's fell while cleaning the bell, Padre!"

Crawford cursed under his breath and hissed,

"I fell when you hit the bell you little hooligan! My ears are still ringing!"

"Don't blame Pedro. I'm sure it was just an accident. Now let me see here..." Father Rodriguez said bending over to examine the man's ankle.

"OWWOW-OHH!!!" howled Crawford as soon as the priest touched his foot. Rodriguez nodded,

"Uh-huh...We'll have to wait to see what Dr. Webber says of course, but I fear that ankle may be badly sprained my son."

"Oh no! This is terrible!" Manuela cried.

"Yes, he'll be off his feet for quite a while." Erik nodded.

"But who will ever take his place in the church pageant?" Manuela asked more to herself. Crawford remarked dryly,

"Gee...I feel your heartfelt concern Manny ol' Girl..."

"Manuela my child, I think we have more important things to worry about than a church play." Father Rodriguez said.

"Oh I'm sorry Crawford is hurt Padre, but after all everyone in Heaven's Corner looks forward to the play every year. Who could we possibly get who could memorize all of Crawford's lines by tomorrow?" Manuela asked. Erik didn't know why he said it...but before he knew it the following words came out of his mouth,

"I'll do it."

Everyone turned their heads to look at Erik curiously.

"You Monsieur?" Father Rodriguez asked. Erik shrugged,

"I practically grew up in a theater. Memorizing a few dozen lines is child's play to me."

"Oh Senor Bordeux! You mean it? You shall really take the part?" Manuela said stepping before Erik, her hands folded under her chin almost like a prayer. Erik gave her a small smile and boldly took her hand and kissed the back of it. The searing kiss sent chills down Manuela's spine as she looked deeply into his luminous blue-green eyes and heard him say,

"I'll consider it a command performance."

Manuela blushed as she took back her hand, realizing they were not alone. And that there was a priest in the room. Crawford exchanged a cheeky questioning glance at Pedro who merely rolled his eyes. It was Father Rodriquez who broke the ice.

"Well, now that's settled. Let's get Senor Crawford into a bed where he can rest shall we?" the Father said beginning to pull the maintenance man to his feet. Erik stepped forward to help while Manuela went ahead with Pedro saying,

"We'll make the bed ready. Come Pedro."

With Father Rodriguez supporting Crawford's right side, Erik supported the left and asked as they began to slowly walk out of the hall,

"By the way...What play am I to be performing in?"

"Oh you'll love it! A choice roll. You get to be Don Juan himself ol' chap!" Crawford told him with a smile as Erik began to feel sick to his stomach.

* * *

Erik had little time to ponder God's sense of humor, for no sooner had they helped Crawford into a room did the doctor come to rush them out. Upon seeing the hour, Manuela told Erik that she would speak to the Priest and that he should go home and prepare for the party. 

But what did he have to prepare? Upon arriving home, he put up his cane and hat, fixed himself a small snack of the leftover jam and bread, and then went upstairs to change. He dressed simply. In one of his black suits with a black domino mask. He wasn't going to stand out in a crowd tonight. Part of him was tempted to put on his white leather half mask, his evening dress and his cape lined with gold silk. But he didn't want to risk it. After all who knows what news they've heard from Texas about the recent scandal at the opera house in Paris? Around five he took a few last deep calming breaths before the mirror and then turned to head downstairs. He took his top hat and his cane, and then went out the door, pausing by the overgrown marigolds. He took one bright orange blossom and tucked it into his lapel with a smile. Then he proceeded up the hill to the Montevilla _villa_.

He was not completely alone on his journey, for a few early goers made their way to the party up on the walkway lined with paper candlelit lanterns. The front stair of the large open house was lined with pots of marigolds in alternating shades of oranges and yellows. The door was open, the butler greeting guests with a smile. Erik noted with curiosity each guest handed the butler a small wax candle. Erik handed the manservant his invitation and the butler nodded,

"If you will wait in the hall, Senor."

Erik obeyed, trying to keep his nerves calm as the manservant took his hat and cane. Erik was alone for a moment, the marble of the floors echoing his footsteps as he casually looked about the room with the long winding oak staircase to the left, and high vaulted ceilings with a massive chandelier above him.

"So you are Erik Bordeaux." said a man's voice behind him. Erik turned, finding himself face to face with none other that Don Ricardo Montevilla. Montevilla was clearly sizing up the taller Frenchman before him. Erik cleared his throat and nodded,

"So I am, Monsieur Montevilla. Thank you for inviting me to your home."

"It was not I who invited you...but my daughter." Montevilla corrected him stepping forward with a decanter of whiskey in one hand, two small glasses in the other.

"Certainly Monsieur." Erik nodded.

"I merely allowed it." Montevilla added quirking a brow at Erik as he began to pour.

"Or course." Erik said with as much respect in his tone he could muster. This was certainly a new experience. Not even with Christine did he have to worry about confronting the father. Of course it was a slightly different situation with Manuela. After all, Erik wasn't manipulating Manuela to love him.

"Here, have a drink. Quickly now for my wife doesn't allow me to drink anymore." Ricardo said handing Erik a glass and pouring himself a drink."

"Thank you M. Montevilla." Erik said slightly amused by Ricardo's fear of his wife's wrath.

"To your health." Ricardo said raising his glass in a slight toast. Erik raised his and took a swift gulp of the strong liquor with the elder gentleman. Satisfied, Ricardo sighed and looked almost mournfully into his glass as he asked Erik,

"So M. Bordeaux, my daughter could not stop talking about you all day. Starting at breakfast. Which makes me wonder where and when she met you."

"Yesterday...Her young friend Pedro threw a rock into my window and she made him come into my house to apologize." Erik said, wisely leaving out any hint of Manuela's second visit to his home.

"Well, I must hand it to you Senor. No man has been able to hold my daughter's interest for twenty four minutes let alone twenty four hours. What is it that you do for a living?" Montevilla asked pouring Erik another drink.

"I make most of my money earning commissions for my architectural designs." Erik said while thinking to himself, "_Not to mention extorting money out of idiotic managers at Opera Houses." _

Montevilla actually began to nod in approval as Erik took a sip of his drink, when a feminine voice came down the stair,

"Ricardo? What are you doing with that whiskey bottle?"

Quickly pocketing his shot glass, Ricardo looked up at his wife and said nonchalantly,

"I was merely offering our quest a drink, my dove."

Erik was struck by how much of Manuela he could see in her beautiful mother. The Montevillas made quite a pair as a bullfighter and his supportive flamingo dancer. And as Maria cast her husband a suspicious smirk, she said to Erik,

"Senor Bordeaux. A pleasure to have you in our home."

Erik took her proffered hand, and with a slight bow, he said,

"Thank you for tolerating my presence, Madame."

Maria Montevilla turned her curious face to Erik now. Something in his voice spoke of self depreciation. Something told her this young man did not think highly of himself. She slowly began to smile as she assessed that her daughter was exactly what he needed.

"Manuela should be down in a moment. So Senor Bordeaux, " Maria began noting how Erik's eyes lit up at mention of her daughter's name, " How are you finding Heaven's Corner so far?"

Just before he could answer, Erik became aware of another presence joining them. Erik's jaw slightly dropped at the vision descending the stair with a knowing smirk on her face. Head to toe in black velvet, her skirts slim and showing off her hips, with a long bushy fur tail trailing down her bustle all the way to the floor, Manuela held up a black cat mask to her face delicately with one hand covered in long, black opera gloves that were altered to show off sharp looking claws.

"Lovely..." Erik finally said, leaving his hosts to wonder if he meant Heaven's Corner or their daughter.

* * *

"...And we pray Father...that while we celebrate the life you've given us, we will remember how your Son the Christ died on the cross to save us from death. And conquered death by raising to life three days later. In the name of the Father, and the Son and of the Holy Ghost...Amen" Father Rodriguez said finishing his prayer with the sign of the Trinity. 

"Amen." chorused the town of Heaven's Corner, the Catholics making the sign of the cross as they finished. Even Erik said under his breath,

"Amen."

He looked up from his place besides Manuela and saw Don Ricardo pat the priest on the back with a smile and then shout out to the crowd,

"Friends! Let the _fiesta_ begin!"

And like magic, fireworks shot up into the cool night sky and exploded into burst of color, earning laughter from the children and applause from the adults. A mariachi band tapped their feet and began to play music, joyful music Erik had never heard before. Couples, old and young began to fill the courtyard and dance to the rhythm permeating the air. Erik looked over and noticed the servants setting up dozens of candles on the tables serving food. Catching Manuela's attention, Erik asked over the music in her ear,

"What are those candles for?"

"We give the hosts candles to honor the visiting spirits. Then we get _tamales_ and _atole_ to join our departed in their feasting." Manuela explained, taking Erik's arm and walking him towards the food.

"And if you don't bring a candle?" Erik asked.

"Well, you still get food, but you'll be expected to bring two candles to make up for it!" Manuela said with an amused grin on her face. Erik accepted the cup of bright thick liquid handed to him. He tasted it with but a tiny sip, rolling it around on his tongue. It had a hint of cream, but it was mostly fruit he tasted.

"Hmm..." Erik shrugged, "Not at all unpleasant."

"Oh come now, M. Bordeaux...I know that sweet tooth of yours must be rejoicing." Manuela teased him. Erik smiled and sighed,

"Do you know how much you delight me?"

Manuela lowered her eyelashes and leaned in close and whispered,

"No...but I would love to find out."

She giggled and pulled him along to the dance floor. At first Erik stiffened up at the thought of being so close to others, but one look in Manuela's brilliant smile and they were the only ones in the room. He spent the evening in a cocoon of Manuela's presence, breathing every inch of her in like the copal incense on the alters around the party. Soon, Manuela excused herself for a moment to freshen up, leaving Erik to get himself another _atole_ and then return to the shadows where he felt more comfortable. He watched the families and couples laugh, the children bob for apples and the antics of Don Ricardo trying to sneak a drink while Donna Maria wasn't looking. He chuckled coming to the realization that he was not longing to join the fun...for he was, in a small way, a part of it. In his old life as an opera ghost, he would dream of being the chap in the corner, amusing himself while he waited for his lady friend to return from powdering her nose. Now, Erik was that chap in the corner.

But Erik did not realize that slime also liked dark corners until he heard,

"Good Evening...Bordeaux, is it?"

Erik looked to his right and all amusement was gone from his face. It was Alejandro Garcia, the man he recognized as the one who led the attack on Manuela. Erik's grip on his glass tightened as he said a clipped,

"Good evening, Monsieur Garcia."

"Splendid party no? The Montevillas spare no expense to honor some silly superstition." Garcia said looking out on the activity around him.

"Superstition?" Erik asked. Alejandro gave Erik a patronizing smile,

"Come Bordeaux...We are men of the world. The Day of the Dead is no more than an excuse to drink tequila on brisk fall evenings and gorge ourselves on sweets. Not that I need an excuse mind you. For I have been known to indulge in some fine tequila..."

"And do you gorge yourself on sweets?" Erik asked. Alejandro cast an leering eye towards some attractive young ladies gossiping by the refreshments. He laughed,

"Well...sweet enough..."

Just when Erik thought he tasted bile in the back of his throat, Alejandro continued,

"Speaking of sweet, where is the charming Miss Manuela? You haven't exhausted the poor girl with those two left feet of yours now have you?"

Sneering at the poor joke, Erik said,

"No Mlle. Montevilla needed some fresh air after she got caught downwind from your breath, Monsieur...If you will excuse me?"

Alejandro glared at Erik's back and once he was sure no one was looking, puffed a breath into the cup of his hand and sniffed.

* * *

Meanwhile, for Erik, finding one black cat in a sea of masks and skulls was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He craned his neck, but apparently, black was this year's most popular color for costumes. About to give up and go home, Erik suddenly had the strong urge to look down. He found himself in a staring contest with a bright eyed little boy no taller than his knee and dressed as a cowboy. The little blonde boy with freckles merely gapped up at Erik who finally got around to asking, 

"What? Are you lost?"

"Pedro said you were desperate." the boy finally said. Pursing his lips dryly, Erik said,

"I hope for his sake you meant _desperado..._"

"Are you really gonna rob the bank?" the child asked when Pedro, dressed as a fox, came up to them. He scolded the younger child,

"Tommy! I told you Senor Bordeaux is alright. Now come on! It's time for the _ofrendas_!"

Catching Pedro before he ran off, Erik asked,

"Pedro have you seen Mlle. Montevilla?"

"Manuela? Oh yeah...There she is!" Pedro pointed up at a set of stairs. Erik saw the woman scanning the crowds. When her eyes landed on him, she smiled and Erik's breath caught in his chest. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine a woman looking at him like Manuela was now. Maybe this was a dream. If it was Erik never wanted to wake up. He made his way to join her as Don Ricardo got everyone's attention once more.

"Friends!" he said. "I hope you are enjoying yourselves and more importantly, the spirits are pleased. Now we come to the portion of the evening where we lay _ofrendas _to honor _los angelitos _at the alters. As is tradition in Heaven's Corner, we ask the children to present their gifts first. Children." Ricardo said nodding for the children to begin. Erik slowed his ascent up to Manuela's side as he watched the boys and girls lay before the alters around the courtyard brand new toys and games and then rejoining their parents. It was very silent and in Erik's mind, there should have been a sweet, melancholy but hopeful flute playing. He whispered to Manuela,

"What are they doing? _Ofrendas _are gifts to dead, right? Why are they giving away toys?"

Manuela was silent a moment before she smiled up at Erik,

"Because children are taken to heaven on the back of angel's wings as well as grown-ups."

Erik grew silent with understanding, as Manuela began to explain to him that the Finnegans used to have nine boys not seven, Pedro had brothers and a sister who died in the accident and that Mrs. Periwig had a nephew die on the crossing. When Erik saw Maria Montevilla place a stuffed bear before an alter, he looked to Manuela who simply said,

"My baby brother."

And though he knew she viewed death as a part of life, still Erik squeezed her hand.

Soon Don Ricardo spoke up before the crowd,

"Now would anyone like to do something to entertain _los angelitos_ before we continue with the fiesta?"

To Erik's sheer and utter terror, Pedro shouted out above the hushed crowd,

"Get Senor Bordeaux to do some magic tricks!"

There was a wave of murmurs as Heaven's Corner looked up to their newest citizen, who was not only pale, but a little green around the gills. Manuela merely giggled behind her gloved hand as Donna Maria said,

"What a wonderful idea Pedro!"

"Well M. Bordeaux! It seems you have a command performance." Don Ricardo said waving him down.

"And to be followed tomorrow night when he is to play Don Juan." Father Rodriguez spoke up as waves of surprise and delight went through the crowd.

"I wouldn't want to impose..." Erik tried to say. But Manuela began to pull him down by the arm saying,

"Well you've already got the spirits excited so you might as well do it!"

He was met with polite applause as he went forward to the small platform over the crowd. Adjusting his cufflinks, Erik couldn't help but flashback to his time with the gypsies. It was only his logical mind that kept telling him that he wouldn't be beaten into taking his mask off and made a laughing stock before the crowds.

_"It's not a sideshow, it's a party...it's not a sideshow...it's a party..._" Erik kept telling himself. He looked at the waiting crowd and rubbed his hands together,

"Well..." he said unsure of where to begin, "Since our young friend Pedro here volunteered me into this predicament..." he was amazed when he received a few chuckles, "I might as well return the favor and make him my volunteer."

Now it was Pedro's turn to look like a deer caught by the hunter's gun. Erik helped him onto the platform, but he did not let go of Pedro's hand. He tilted it up to look up Pedro's sleeve and said,

"Pedro...didn't anyone teach you that when it comes to magic you should have nothing up your sleeves?"

Pedro looked confused but then his jaw dropped when he saw Erik begin to pull a long trail of colored scarves out of Pedro's sleeves. The audience laughed and the applause was almost nonstop as Erik proceeded to pull coins out of midair, make them disappear and then reappear in Pedro's pocket. He then did some tricks on his own using fire and rope, earning 'oohs' and awe from the crowd. His finale was presenting a single red rose to Manuela out of his handkerchief. He barely acknowledged the praise from the partygoers who came up to him afterwards. All he focused on was Manuela smiling at him.


	5. November 1

**_Author's Note: Okay, a little late, but technically, I finished this around midnight so It's kind of was done for November 1st. Meanwhile, when I was researching Day of the Dead last year, I stumbled across this little bit about the Mexican people putting on a play about Don Juan and I knew this story was meant to be. So the short bit from the play isn't mine, but Senor Molina's. Enjoy!_**

**_peace, love and lipgloss, _**

**_Mlle.Fox_**

* * *

November 1st, 1876

_Imogene and Mortimer Fairfield were sitting in their parlor, enjoying the evening. Mortimer was sitting in his favorite chair, reading the evening paper, while his wife bustled about, dusting everything and pulling things out of crates and placing them around the room. Suddenly, Erik burst into the room, his tall frame engulfing the doorway as he barked, _

_"I can't do it! I won't!" _

_"Won't do what?" Mortimer asked confused. Imogene turned to him and explained knowingly, _

_"The play. He doesn't want to play Don Juan." _

_"Can you blame me? I played Don Juan before and that was a total disaster!" Erik exclaimed beginning to pace. _

_"Oh, but Erik dear, this version is so much different!" Imogene said trying to match his steps with her petite legs. Thinking it was like watching a toy poodle try to keep up with a Great Dane, Mortimer commented folding his paper, _

_"Especially since your version of Don Juan sent a chandelier crashing to the audience below." _

_"Mortimer!" scolded Imogene. Erik stopped his pacing and flopped into a chair opposite Mortimer. He said dejectedly, _

_"He's right. Last time...last time I played Don Juan just so I could take Christine...Being in this play brings back so many bad memories...Memories that remind me I'm a monster..." _

_"Now you stop that foolish talk! Erik, you made a mistake. A horrible mistake. One of many. But if this play has anything to teach you it's this...God forgives...no matter what you have done." Imogene pleaded, raising his face to look up at her with her small delicate hands. _

_"She's right Son. But getting forgiveness from God is easy. It's forgiving yourself that's the most painful process of all." Mortimer said standing and putting a comforting hand on Erik's shoulder.

* * *

_

Erik woke up just as he had begun to cry in Imogene's apron. Wiping off some stray tears, Erik felt the eerie touch of Mortimer Fairfield still on his shoulder. He rubbed the spot and crawled out of bed. He had returned home from the party a little after two in the morning...and he wasn't the last to leave. He did so because he knew he would have to spend the morning memorizing lines for the play tonight. With his memory, it was child's play. That did not mean he was looking forward to it. But this latest dream about the Fairfields had, in a way, comforted him about it. That still did not explain to Erik how his untouched and boxed up possessions had been put up and the house clean. Looking from room to room as he adjusted his cravat that morning, Erik found every inch of the house neat, tidy and unpacked. Like he had lived there for years. And there was fresh bread by freshly lit candles on the alter that morning. Shaking his head and throwing on his coat, Erik sat down for breakfast, the script in hand, ready to learn how to play the famous rake of Seville.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alejandro Garcia was mulling over his hangover cure in the local saloon. He was sitting in a corner and scowling. Everyone was talking about that Frog. That stupid Frog that had enraptured Manuela with those silly tricks of his last night. He had to get rid of this Erik Bordeaux once and for all. But how?

Then, Alejandro got a wicked idea. An idea that just had to work.

* * *

"Do you really think Senor Bordeaux can learn all those lines by tonight Manuela?" Pedro asked holding the basket of flowers for her. On the stepladder on the makeshift stage, Manuela took a bright yellow marigold from him and wove it into the garland draping around the stage,

"Well...at this point Pedro...I would not be surprised."

"Is it true what Sister Sarah Elizabeth says? That you're going to marry Senor Bordeaux?" Pedro asked.

"Shush! Pedro! Whatever put that idea in my head? ...Uh...Your head..." Manuela said correcting herself with a blush.

"Oh brother!" Pedro said with a roll of his eyes. Watching from the makeshift auditorium, Crawford sat by Sister Sarah Elizabeth, his sprained ankle propped up in a chair before him. He said to the nun,

"You know Sister, I think this cockamamie scheme of Manny's might actually work. That Bordeaux bloke is hooked."

"Mr. Crawford, we shouldn't speak of others. That's gossip." Sister Sarah Elizabeth said disapprovingly.

"Your point?" Crawford asked evenly. Just before she retorted, Father Rodriguez announced,

"Alright everyone, we should be able to begin."

"No we won't Padre...Our star ain't here yet." Crawford said.

"Yes he is! Here he comes now!" Pedro exclaimed pointing the appointing figure of Erik. Manuela's smile faded a bit as she noticed the solemn look on Erik's face. She sighed in aggravation. He had looked so happy last night. Now what had happened?

"I apologize Father...I was...caught up reading my lines." Erik said to Father Rodriguez.

"It's quite alright. Places everyone!" Father Rodriguez declared. The rest of rehearsal went fine. Erik knew every line, every cue, every emotion to play, which astounded Manuela. That is until they decided to rehearse the love scene. That was when Erik began to stutter and sweat. Manuela couldn't figure it out. She was playing the beautiful and pious Donna Ines, the lady who reforms Don Juan at the sake of her immortal soul. Manuela had thought it would be a perfect way to indirectly detect Erik's true passions. But he was being anything but passionate. And it annoyed her.

Finally, the priest suggested a break, which Erik took immediate advantage of, ducking behind the curtains. But Manuela wasn't letting him off that easy. She followed him into the shadows at once. But she stopped short when she found no one there. She turned around in circles trying to figure out where he had gone. Completely frustrated, Manuela blew a strand of hair out of her face and called out,

"Erik! Erik I know you're here! The back stage area is only the size of a broom closet for Pity's sake! Please, Erik...come talk to me."

She was met with silence and Manuela began to feel foolish. Perhaps he had merely come through here and left. Leaving her speaking to thin air. But her fears were allayed when a soft baritone spoke in the stillness,

"That's the first time you've called me by my Christian name."

Trying to find him, Manuela replied,

"I think we've flirted enough to be past formalities."

"I've never meant to over step my boundaries, Mam'selle." Erik said pleadingly from wherever he was.

"And when did I create these boundaries, Monsieur?" Manuela asked still searching for a figure to go with his disembodied voice. Peeking down at her from the small set of flies above her head, Erik sighed and softly said,

"The moment you looked at me with those beautiful eyes of yours..."

Blushing at his compliment, Manuela asked,

"And what pray tell, leaves you to think that just because I'm pretty that you are beyond reach?"

"You're beautiful, not pretty...and women like you have always been beyond my reach." Erik told her leaning against the railings. Picking up her skirts and sitting on a crate, Manuela said,

"I see...So not trying to sound jealous, who was the beautiful woman that tried to keep you at arm's length?"

Erik hesitated...then simply said,

"Her name was Christine Daae..."

"Daae? That name sounds familiar...I remember Papa reading about this scandal in Paris that involved an opera singer named..." Manuela stopped cold as realization set in and she put two and two together. Closing his eyes to block out the tears that threaten to fall, Erik stated,

"Do you realize who I am now?"

"Oh...so that's why you left France..."was all Manuela could say. Erik began to pace on the flies, the creaks of the wood telling Manuela where he was.

"So now you know...I'm a monster, Manuela...A monster who tried to pretend to be Don Juan before...and failed miserably. "

"Is this why you were upset at rehearsal? Bad memories?" Manuela asked, still to stunned to ask the important questions.

"Partly...mostly because this play...this play gives me a hope I don't dare live for...That even a demon could find love and forgiveness from God." Erik spat, self loathing at it's peak."

Manuela stood in outrage,

"That's enough! Don't you understand? That's what this play is trying to teach! That's why we perform it every year! When Don Juan is told he's to die by his loved ones who have pasted on, he is urged to repent and turn to God before it is too late! Erik, please...I don't care who you use to be...All that matters is the man you decide to let God make you. Please Erik...before it's too late..."

She was met with more silence, and she truly thought she had lost him, when suddenly she heard a board creak to her right, and when she turned her head there he was. Tears softly rolling down his face, Erik whispered,

"You...you don't care?"

"As long as that monster died in that fire in Paris and the man escaped with God's grace...than no...I don't care." Manuela reassured him with a gentle smile. Erik stepped forward, and then took the hand she had to her side. He held it in his own, her small hand looking childlike against his long fingertips. He put her palm up to his face and held it there, breathing her in, revealing in the softness of her skin. With one breath he asked,

"Why?"

Manuela shrugged,

"You are fascinated with my talk of Home Economics...I've never met a man who thought I was more than a pretty face or a good investment for his place in society. You call yourself a monster. How is it I feel so safe around you then? And you know you're the only man who challenges me to be a better woman? For lately, I'm finding myself more in prayer and more in God while I've known you. If that's not a sign we belong in each others lives...I don't know what then."

They were silent a moment or two, then they heard Father Rodriguez call out,

"Erik! Manuela! We are ready for you!"

Opening his eyes, he gazed into her gentle face and sighed,

"We must return."

"Come." Manuela said, pulling him along. They stepped out into the sunlight again, hand in hand. Crawford elbowed Sister Sarah Elizabeth with a smirk, Pedro rolled his eyes and Father Rodriquez nodded with a knowing smile,

"We'll pick up from your line Erik, 'Oh, my loveliest Ines..."

Nodding, Erik began,

"Oh, my loveliest Inés..."

* * *

"Oh, my loveliest Inés; mirror and light of vision. Listen without derision, as you do so, it's love: yes, see here at your feet. I confess all the haughty pride of this traitorous heart inside , that never thought to yield, adores you, my life. Ah, I feel the slavery of your love." Erik said that evening after the sun had set and the curtain had gone up. They were well into the play now, and Heaven's Corner was captivated by they're newest Don Juan. Almost as captivated as their Dona Ines. Manuela recited her lines next, but she meant every word and hoped her eyes told Erik as much.

"Oh God! Silence! How can I stand to resist, with my sighing, any longer, without dying, ah, such longing, Don Juan? Ah, to silence, for pity's sake, turn, for hearing you seems to me to bring my mind infirmity, and cause my heart to burn. Ah! You have doubtless given me an infernal potion, oh some that helps you overcome a woman's purity." She turned back and gazed at Erik's piercing stare, "Perhaps, Don Juan, you possess an amulet; a thing of mystery that draws me secretly, like an irresistible magnet. Perhaps Satan set in your eyes his fascinating gaze, his seductive maze of words, and the Love he denies to God. Ah, what am I to do, but fall into those two arms, if you continue to me shatter my heart in two? No, Don Juan, it's no longer in me to own the power to resist you. I turn to you as the river flows that runs down to the sea. Your presence maddens me, your words hypnotize me, and your eyes fascinate me, and your breath envenoms me. Don Juan, I implore you in your noble heart, of pity either tear my heart from me or love me, because I adore you.

Maybe God had meant for Erik to play this part, for he meant every word that he said back to Manuela,

"My soul! Those words indeed change my whole state of being. and I know perhaps I am seeing Paradise open to me. Doña Inés, it is not Satan, in sin, who creates this love in me: It is God, who wants, perhaps through you, to win me to Him. No, the love that is precious mortal in my heart, that is mortal, is not that love, that up to now I've treasured, nor is it a fleeting spark of need that a breath of wind defeats it is a roaring fire that eats all it sees, in its vast greed. Calm then your fears, my most beautiful Inés, for at your feet I feel that, yes, even I am filled with virtue. Ah, I will swallow my pride before the good Comendador and he'll either give me you to adore or death will be my bride.

"My dearest Don Juan!" Manuela said moving into his embrace just as they rehearsed. But looking into her eyes, Erik improvised something that had the stage manager Sister Sarah Elizabeth thumbing through her script. Without warning and without thought, he kissed her. Of course to the audience it looked like part of the show. But Manuela was reeling. It was her first kiss, and oh, she was so glad it was Erik. For he was gentle but strong, needing but giving. He held her flush against his strong form, and soon thoughts other than the play were racing through her head and through her blood.

But Sister Sarah Elizabeth was panicing. In desperation, she threw a pebble at Erik's feet. Remember the play, Erik broke the kiss, immediately resuming his character,

"Silence. Did you hear?"

Still stunned, Manuela wasn't acting when she asked,

"What?"

* * *

Later at the fiesta, the music was just as lively at the night before, but there were twice as many stars. And that was just in Manuela's costume. She had changed into a gown of midnight blue, encrusted with crystals and embroidered with fine silver stars. On her head she wore a crown shaped like stars. She was a Princess of the Night, and Erik thought she couldn't look more beautiful. Erik on the other hand stayed in his costume that he wore for the play, and as a result, had more and more people come up to him and tell him what a splendid job he did. Not used to such attention, Erik was very researved, but by the end of the night one could tell he was beginning to get used to talking to people. Erik was actually beginning to feel at home. And it didn't hurt that Manuela stayed by his side. At one point, Manuela disappeared into the crowd a moment, leaving Erik to chat with the Bennetts, who were engaging him in a conversation about the writings of Mr. Samuel Clemens, their family friend. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Erik turned to find Manuela smirking up at him, her arms behind her back.

"Close your eyes and open your mouth."

Raising an eyebrow, Erik said cheekily,

"You sure you wouldn't like to do this in a dark corner somewhere? We'd have more privacy. Even thought all of Heaven's Corner knows what we'll be up to."

"Very droll...Now shut up and do what you're told."

Erik complied, and Manuela held something up to his lips.

"Now take a bite."

Erik bit down, finding his mouth puckering slightly at the sweetness of icing and pure sugar that exploded in his mouth. Opening his mouth, and trying to swallow before he spoke, Erik said,

"That was almost too sweet even for my standards. What was that?"

Manuela coyly held up the treat, a grinning skull formed out of sugar and decorated with various icings. And across the forehead, it read, "ERIK".

"See, it has your name all over it." Manuela quipped.

"Ha ha...Now who's being droll?" Erik asked gathering her in his arms and sweeping her out to the dance floor. Seeing their daughter laugh and sway with the newcomer to the romantic music in the air, Donna Marie sighed happily to her husband,

"I can't believe our baby is in love."

Distracted from his subtle attempts to spike the punch bowl with his flask, Don Ricardo furrowed his brow and asked,

"Love? Are you sure?"

Maria rolled her eyes and sighed. She pointed to the dance floor and their daughter who was locked in Erik's gaze.

"Look Ricardo..."

Amazed, Don Ricardo said,

"Well...past the salt...I'm going to have my shoes medium well done!"

Maria Montevilla laughed at her husband's joke as the dancing continued, and as Manuela and Erik felt themselves falling deeper into each others eyes.


	6. November 2

**_Author's Note: I'm finished! I finished a story! It's a Halloween miracle!_**

**_peace,love and lipgloss, _**

**_Mlle.Fox_**

* * *

November 2nd, 1876

_Erik stepped out onto his porch for a little night air, only to find it was broad daylight and his once messy front yard was cleaned up and looking fresh and new. He turned his head and smiled when he saw the Fairfields pruning one of his overgrown marigold bushes down to size, even replanting some of the flowers, roots and all into flower pots. Imogene looked up and smiled at him, she put down her gardening tools and stood to her feet, _

_"There he is! There is our Don Juan! Bravo! Bravo!" _

_Laughing at the older woman's enthusiasm, Erik gave a slight bow while Mortimer commented, _

_"And apparently some of that chemistry onstage translated to offstage as well." _

_Erik merely smiled as he remembered that he and Manuela had snuck off at one point during the evening fiesta, after prayers had been said for those who died before they knew Christ. They had walked under the night sky, hand in hand, talking animatedly about the cotton press. Erik was fascinated with the mechanics, Manuela went on and on about the ramifications and as an example, she cited how it brought about the recent Civil War between the states. Their talks had brought them all the way to the vineyards, where silence began to fall between them. But their eyes told each other what their words could not. Erik was about to be bold enough to ask for another kiss, when Manuela wrapped her arms around his neck and answered his question for him. _

_Erik sighed remembering how intoxicating Manuela's kisses had been. Then, realizing he was not alone, Erik cleared his throat and said to the waiting Fairfeilds, _

_"Yes well...Mlle. Montevilla and I had a very pleasant evening." _

_"He's not going to tell us is he?" Imogene asked her husband with a pout._

_" Genie, ol'girl, sometimes things are best left unsaid." Mortimer said giving Erik a playful wink.

* * *

_

Erik jolted awake when he heard a distant rooster crow. The sunlight was beaming in through the open curtains of his music room. He had sat at his desk upon returning home, too excited to sleep. With a pen and paper he had wrote Manuela a poem, though it was more of a sonnet. Reading it now, Erik laughed aloud. It was the worst thing he had ever written. And he didn't care. For once, something meant more to him in his life than his art or even his music. He stretched as he stood, his back popping and cracking in protest after having fallen asleep at his desk.

Remembering the Montevillas had invited him over for breakfast, Erik began to go upstairs to dress and freshen up, when he paused upon seeing fresh marigolds placed on the alter in his dining room, right next to the freshly baked bread and jam. Compelled to go outside, Erik stepped onto his porch and saw his garden neat and tidy. Confusion settled in on Erik's brow as a wind chime twinkled in the chilled November wind.

* * *

"I'm never going to get this thing done!" Pedro exclaimed as he sat on Crawford's bed that morning. They were amusing themselves by making _ojos de Dios_, or "eyes of God". A simple craft of weaving colorful yarn around two crossed sticks, Crawford found it easy and told Pedro so,

"Ah come on Pedro, it takes a while to make something beautiful or well crafted. I once heard about this lady writer who took a whole year to finish a short story she wrote!"

"Did that writer have to fight tangles?" Pedro said holding up his mess of yarn. Bringing in a tray of breakfast, Sister Sarah Elizabeth smiled and said,

"Here you go...nice and hot."

"Thanks Sister." Crawford said giving the young nun a wink as he took a bite out of his bread. Sister Sarah Elizabeth blushed and nodded her head, leaving the room once more. Crawford shook his head and said lamentably,

"Why are all the cute ones married or nuns?"

"She's not going to be a nun for much longer." Pedro told him. Crawford looked at him confused,

"Say again?"

"I heard her talking to Padre about it. She's going to leave the church." Pedro said.

"Hold on!" Crawford said hopping to his feet. Grabbing his crutch, Crawford went out the door and caught up with Sister Sarah Elizabeth yelling,

"Sister! Sister wait up!"

"Mister Crawford! You should be in bed!" scolded Sister Sarah Elizabeth. Out of breath, Crawford ignored her question and asked,

"You're leaving the church?"

"Well, yes. How did you hear...Oh...Pedro!" she said rolling her eyes.

"What for?" Crawford asked.

"After a great deal of prayer, I realized God wishes me into a different calling." Sister Sarah Elizabeth said.

"What's that?" Crawford asked.

"A wife." she said. Crawford nodded,

"Ah...yeah that would be kinda hard to do while being a nun an' all..."

"I'm a little scared...the church is all I've ever known." Sarah Elizabeth said.

"So...who's the lucky fella?" asked Crawford. She shrugged and smiled,

"I don't know."

Crawford narrowed his brow, he asked,

"You're getting married without a groom?"

"Well I'm not getting married yet...I just...I know I want to get married, but I must leave the church to do so. Even if I never meet anybody, a desire to get married would not make me a very good nun."

"How true. Well, good luck Sister. And don't fret. I have a feeling you'll find your Prince Charming soon enough." Crawford said.

"Thank you Mister Crawford." Sarah Elizabeth said turning to return to her duties, not seeing Crawford pump his arm with victory. She looked back and he stood nonchalantly and smiled at her polite nod and then she turned the corner and giggled.

* * *

Don Richardo sat in his chair in the parlor, chewing on a pencil. Donna Maria came in and exclaimed,

"Honestly Ricardo you have been in that chair all morning!"

"I'm trying to think of a _calavera_ for Uncle Jorge..." Ricardo said staring at the blank piece of paper before him. Maria sighed when their butler Carlos announced,

"Senor Bordeaux, Donna."

Maria greeted Erik with a smile,

"_Buenos dias_ Erik! How are you?"

"Very well Madame, thank you." Erik said politely.

"Say hello to our guest Ricardo." urged Maria.

"oh, hello Erik...say Erik, you're a clever fellow. What's another word for a drunken mule?" Ricardo asked.

"If Erik was not polite, he'd say Don Ricardo Montevilla!" Maria said dryly.

Chuckling slightly, Erik asked,

"Um...I'm not sure Monsieur. Why do you ask?"

"I'm writing a _calavera..." _Ricardo said distractingly.

"A what?" Erik asked.

"A _calavera_ is a short epitaph or poem we write for our departed. Although they are suppose to be flattering as well as funny!" Maria said pointedly to Ricardo who merely shrugged. Carlos reentered and announce,

"Senorita Manuela says breakfast is served, Senora."

"_Gracias_ Carlos. We'll have it in the conservatory." Maria said as her husband stood. Ricardo whispered in Erik's ear.

"If I were you I'd stick to the bread my boy. That's all Manuela can cook without burning it!"

"Duly noted." Erik said smiling upon learning Manuela's endearing flaw.

"Erik, after breakfast we will be meeting a group of people at the cemetery behind your house to clean it up and prepare it for the spirits. Would you like to come?" Donna Maria asked Erik as they walked down the hall.

"I would enjoy that, thank you. Um, Madame Montevilla? Have you noticed or heard anyone around my house at night?" Erik asked.

"No, and I often do a bit of stargazing before bed. I can see the whole town from my window. Why do you ask?" she inquired.

"Well I found my gardens tended to this morning. And unless I'm sleepwalking, someone has come at night and cleaned the place up." Erik told her.

"That's curious. No one I've spoken to has seen anything unusual." Maria said shaking her head.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but I would like to know whom to thank for their hard work. Another curious thing is I've been dreaming of my house and my garden being put in order, but I never did so. It was the former owners, the Fairfeilds." Erik said.

"Ah...there's your answer then." Maria said.

"Excuse me?" Erik asked pausing.

"It's the Day of the Dead Monsieur...It would seem the spirits of the Fairfeilds have returned to celebrate it with you." Maria said going ahead into the conservatory. Erik looked back at Don Ricardo and asked,

"She is joking with me...Isn't she Monsieur?"

Ricardo shrugged,

"Mortimer Fairfield did work hard on that garden..."

He went into the conservatory only to be followed by Erik who was shaking his head and wondering.

* * *

Half of the town had shown up to clean the graves behind Erik's house. Armed with canvas bags for trash, rakes, and gloves, the townsfolk dressed not in their finest but they're day to day work clothes. And it amazed Erik that people would randomly shout out a cheerful greeting at him. Finally, towards the afternoon hour, Erik and Manuela were off by themselves.

"Do you realize, " Manuela said to Erik as they were cleaning off one grave, "That this is where we first met?"

Looking up to her smile, Erik asked,

"And you hold no ill feelings towards the place?"

"No...It wasn't the graveyards fault. Besides the spirits would object to me avoiding this place." Manuela said.

"Speaking of spirits, I think these two have been visiting me a lot lately." Erik said brushing off some dirt on a set of headstones. Manuela gasped and leaned over when she read the name,

"Mortimer and Imogene Fairfeild. Died on February 14th, 1875."

"They died on Saint Valentine's? What is it with this town and holidays?" Erik asked.

"You should see us at Christmas." Manuela said.

"I hope the Fairfeilds come visit me then as well. I've never had a real Christmas. And while they may very well be a product of my overactive imagination...fueled by fairy tale like stories of a certain whimsical home economist, " Erik said pointedly, "The Fairfeilds feel like the parents I never had."

She waited a moment before asking,

"Did you know your real parents?"

Erik shook his head,

"My father no...I don't even know his name. All I know of him is that he was an architect who fell off a building site to his death, leaving my mother a pregnant widow. I suppose that's why I got into architecture. To feel closer to him. My mother on the other hand," Erik sighed, hesitating to continue.

"Go on." Manuela said.

"My mother was a vain, spoiled, selfish brat. When I was born...she...she never even held me...She didn't even name me, the priest did. There was not one day where she failed to remind me of how ugly I was. For my fifth birthday...I asked for two kisses. One for that moment, and another one to save for later. Instead she showed me my reflection and cursed me...The next day she sold me to gypsies who made me a sideshow freak." Erik said, the story pouring out of him with tears gathering in his eyes.

"Where is she now?" Manuela asked.

"I read she had died a few years ago. The wife of a wealthy doctor. With five gorgeous children and fifteen beautiful grandchildren. No mention of her previous marriage or her firstborn. I laughed aloud. I'm glad the old bat is dead." Erik spat with bitterness.

"Erik!" scolded Manuela.

"Manuela please don't start with that talk of lost souls." Erik said.

"Well obviously I don't have to. You know you should pray for your mother's soul! No matter what she did to you." Manuela said standing to her feet, hands on hips. Erik stood as well and retorted,

"Pray for her? Did she ever pray for me? Did she even think of me after selling me off to be a slave? Apparently not for she went on and had an easy life, didn't she?"

"You don't know that. Just as you don't know if your Mother is in purgatory for her sins." Manuela told him.

"I hope she's burning in hell!" Erik yelled.

"Erik!" Manuela gasped.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you my dear, but while I may accept forgiveness from God and myself, I shall never forgive that woman!" Erik said growing angry.

"Then God will not forgive you! For it is a sin to hold on to such hate and to not show mercy!" Manuela told him.

"Well then you can pray for my soul when I'm dead. For I shall never let my hatred of her go!" Erik stated

"Oh you are impossible!" Manuela said throwing up her hands.

"Fine." Erik said simply and coldly. Then he turned and began to walk away.

"Erik! Where are you going?" Manuela yelled at him.

"To be impossibly alone!" Erik yelled back.

Meanwhile, Alejandro Garcia had been watching Erik and Manuela fighting. He turned to his lackey, Miguel,

"You know what to do?"

Miguel nodded,

"It's brilliant. But do you think you can imitate the Frog's voice?"

Alejandro laughed and said not in his own voice but that of a deeper baritone with a hint of a French accent,

"My father taught me ventriloquism at a young age...Who know a useless talent would suddenly become very useful indeed?"

He grinned wolfishly at Manuela as she watched Erik walk off, tears welling up in his eyes.

* * *

The final night of the festival for the dead saw Heaven's Corner ride out fully dressed in costume to their larger cemetery set high on a small island at Angel Feather Lake, called Hallow's Eve. They rode out in special boats called _mariposas_. Shaped like giant butterflies, another symbol of life after death, the townsfolk would bring _ofrendas _to the graves and decorate the place with candles and flowers. They ate at the graves and danced on a large gazebo until the dawn of the next day. It was Manuela's favorite part of _los Dias de los Muertos, _so no one could figure out why she would not come out of her bedroom.

"Manuela, please! We shall be late! You remember how your grandfather hated to wait for people. He's no different now that's he dead!" Don Ricardo said to her closed door.

"Oh Papa...I'm sure Poppi shall understand." Manuela said stroking her cat sadly.

Concerned, Donna Maria said gently,

"Manuela...would this have anything to do with Senor Bordeaux leaving the graveyard this afternoon so abruptly?"

Hearing no reply but a sudden sobbing and sniffle, Ricardo said dryly,

"We'll take that as a yes."

Maria hit his arm in warning, before saying through the door,

"Manuela...I'm not sure what your argument was about...But I know Senor Bordeaux will come tonight and apologize."

Maria wasn't sure if Manuela had heard her, until Manuela cracked the door open and said,

"Why do you know this?"

Smiling gently at his daughter, Ricardo added,

"Because he's your future husband. He may not know it yet...but that's what long engagements are for, no?"

"Oh Papa!" Manuela said collapsing into her father's arms and crying her eyes out.

Drying her tears, the Montevillas waited for her to dress and they were not dissappointed. She was going as Lady Autumn herself. A shimmering gown with gold, red, and orange beaded leaves on the billowing skirts and the tight bodice made her a vision while the enamel hair clips in the shapes of falling leaves in her hair made her stunning. A brown velvet mask completed the look and they were off to the docks. They arrived only moments before Father Rodriguez, Sister Sarah Elizabeth, Mister Crawford and Pedro. They asked where Erik was, leaving Manuela sad and looking for him again. When she couldn't she sighed and got in the boat, determined to have a good time. The _mariposas _were lit with lanterns and gave a wonderful magical quality to the lake, lighting it up like fire, the wings of the boat seeming to fly in a crowd of stars in the black sky.

The boats were getting crowded now, and Pedro gave his seat to the Widow Willowsworth. While he waited for the next ferry over, he couldn't help but hear wicked laughing on the wind. Now Pedro was a very curious boy, so he went to investigate the sound. He found the noise coming from a secluded part of the docks, where a waiting rowboat full of drunk rabble-rousers where toasting a masked figure in a cloak. Seeing it was the Don Juan costume, Pedro thought it was Senor Bordeaux making new friends. But hearing the voice of Alejandro Garcia, Pedro listened in to hear them say,

"A glorious trick!"

"Marvelous!"

"Tell us again Alejandro!"

"Alright but then I must leave. First, I ride out unseen to the graveyard. I wait for Manuela to be alone. I make her think I'm Bordeaux, and then I 'attempt' to compromise her. Miguel raises the alarm to Don Montevilla while I give Manuela some chloroform to knock her out. Taking off the disguise I'll say I rescued Manuela from Bordeaux." Talking over their outburst of laughter, Alejandro went on, "Montivilla will be so grateful, he's probably arrange the marriage that moment and throw that Frog Bordeaux out of town the next!"

This would be the unfortunate moment where Pedro gasped aloud. Spinning on his heel, Alejandro caught a glimpse of Pedro's eyes shining in the low torch light. He barked to his _amigos, _

"It's that noisy brat Pedro! Get him! _Vanomos_!"

Pedro began to run, Alejandro's men hot on his heels. The boy ran down the deserted dirt road first, finally taking the chase into the over-brush on the side. The larger men followed, almost slowing down. Almost. Pedro finally managed to run ahead just enough to pull back a small tree branch, wait and then release it with a snap into his assailant's face. The first pursuer cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, knocking the rest of the comrades down. Giving Pedro the chance to gain a head start.

"There he goes!" called out one.

"Let's get him!

"_Vamonos_!"

Watching them run ahead and search, Pedro peeked his head of the hallow tree trunk he had hidden inside of, scrambled to his feet and then run off in the opposite direction of his tormentors.

* * *

All Erik could think about was her. He sat alone in his parlor, staring at the blazing fireplace. He sighed listening to how quiet the house was. He had grown tired of silence. He shouldn't have yelled at her. It wasn't her fault his mother had been a witch of a woman. But there was no way Erik would forgive his mother.

"Not in a million years." Erik muttered aloud taking a sip of brandy.

"_Oh for the love of gravy!" _echoed a disembodied voice over his shoulder. Erik jumped and looked, but there was no one there. He furrowed his brow, turning his head back to stare at the fire, when his breath caught in surprise upon seeing the petite form of Imogene Fairfeild standing before him. She looked perturbed, her hands on her hips and her pretty blue eyes narrowed. Calming down, Erik said more to himself,

"I'm dreaming again."

"_Keep telling yourself that Son..._" said the voice of Mortimer Fairfeild as he materialized out of smoke beside his wife. Erik watched him take up his pipe and sit in the opposite chair as he continued to say, "_But the fact remains Mother and I are very disappointed in you." _

"Disappointed in me? Why?" Erik asked.

"_That lovely girl Manuela was right! God will not show mercy for someone who does not give mercy to others! Yes Erik, your mother was vain, selfish...and...what else was she Mortimer?" _Imogene asked her husband.

"_A spoiled brat._" supplied Mortimer.

_"Ah yes...But she was also young. And in her mind she had this perfect fantasy fairy tale life figured out. Perfect husband, perfect baby, perfect life. So when her husband dies and leaves her to raise a baby with a birth defect that he'll have to struggle with the rest of his days, well...she couldn't handle it. She was a bad mother Erik. And she probably is responsible for why you hated the world for so long. But don't forget you made a lot of foolish choices that led you to sin." _Imogene pointed out.

_"And Erik, " _Mortimer said, "_We are not responsible for the sins of our fathers...or mothers...we are responsible for ourselves. The only way you will ever step out into the light and away from the shadow of the Phantom...is if you forgive your mother._"

Erik looked back and forth between them, tears trickling down his face. He took off his mask and tried to dry his ravaged face. Finally he nodded and said,

"I do forgive her...and I only hope God forgives me."

"_He does." _Mortimer said with a smile.

"_Now go apologize to Manuela. She's such a lovely girl." _Imogene told him.

Erik shook his head, smiling,

"I've got to lay off on the brandy before bed."

"SENOR BORDEAUX!" came the yell of a frightened young boy.

"Pedro?" Erik asked standing to his feet as an incessant pounding came on his door. He opened it to find Pedro, out of breath and sweaty from his long run.

"Pedro! What in the world? Here, come inside." Erik said ushering the lad in.

"But Senor...we've got to...hurry..." Pedro tried to explain.

"Wait here and catch your breath first. I'll go get some..." Erik stopped short upon seeing a glass of water on his table that he knew had not been there a moment before. And while no one was in sight, Erik had a funny feeling he knew where it came from."...Water..."

He handed the glass to Pedro who gulped it down. Kneeling before the boy, Erik asked,

"Now, what was so important you nearly had a coronary over it?"

Recovered, Pedro stopped drinking and cried out,

"Manuela's in trouble!"

"What?" Erik said his senses reeling.

"Alejandro Garcia is gonna trick Manuela into thinking he's you and attack her! You'll get thrown out of town and Manuela will have to marry him!" Pedro told him. His jaw set, Erik stated,

"Not if I have anything to say about it. Come!"

Putting down his glass, Pedro asked Erik's form as he began to go out the door,

"Aren't you going to wear your mask?"

Erik stopped cold in his tracks. He put a hand to his face realizing that Pedro had seen his abomination! And he had showed no less respect and not a hint of fear. But there was no time to ponder such things now.

"No time let's go!" Erik ordered with Pedro hot on his heels. But the second he stepped outside, Pedro gasped,

"Whoa!"

Aggravated, Erik demanded.

"What now?"

"How'd you do that? More magic?" Pedro asked.

"Do what?" Erik asked confused.

"Change clothes and put on a mask!" Pedro told him.

"What?" Erik asked going over to the window to see his reflection. His eyes went wide when he saw his skull shaped mask in place, black makeup on underneath and all. He looked down and saw a similar velvet costume to his Red Death that he had worn to the Masquerade Ball at the Opera Popular. Only instead of a red, it was a deep royal blue, trimmed with silver instead of gold. He looked up to the glass again after fingering the lapel, only now he saw the transparent forms of Imogene and Mortimer peeking out at him from behind the curtains. Erik sighed,

"It's a long story. Come!"

"But we'll never get there in time! Alejandro already has a head start and it took me forever to loose his friends who were chasing me! Not to mention that it take twenty minutes to get across the lake by the boats." Pedro told him.

"Pedro think! Do you know how the funeral hearse gets across?" Erik asked grabbing the boys shoulders. Pedro hit his head and muttered,

"_Pedro tu idioso!_ _Estupido!" _

Soon they were on the back of Erik's horse, willing the animal to grow wings and fly.

* * *

Meanwhile, the celebrations at Hallow's Eve were in full swing. Don Ricardo was making everyone laugh about Uncle Jorge, while Manuela's eyes kept scanning the crowd. Her mother put a hand on her shoulder and told her,

"He'll be here."

Manuela nodded and said softly,

"I'm going to talk to Poppi."

Her mother nodded, letting her go. Poppi Montevilla's grave was in a quieter part of the cemetery. Laying flowers at his grave, Manuela sighed,

"Oh Poppi...I'm in love...but how can I love a man who refuses to forgive? What kind of life would we have? What if I make a mistake?"

"Manuela..." whispered a voice on the wind. She looked up searching,

"Who's there?"

"Manuela..." whispered the voice again. Her gray orbs darted over the headstones, seeing no one in sight. She turned back to Poppi's grave only to jump and gasp when she saw a shadowed figure standing behind the tall grave marker. Recognizing the Don Juan costume, Manuela put a hand to her chest and breathed out,

"Erik! You startled me!"

"I'm sorry my dear." Alejandro softly said, his voice sounding very much like Erik's. But Manuela could tell something was off.

"Erik? Are you alright? There's something about your voice..."

Ignoring her question, Alejandro held out his gloved hand and said,

"Come. We need to talk."

Manuela hesitated, "I hope it's about you forgiving your mother..." Then she started reaching out for him, "...But alright..."

"Manuela STOP!" cried Pedro coming over the hill. Manuela stopped reaching for the fake Erik's hand, confusion in her face as she asked,

"Pedro? What in the world...?"

Just before he could grab Manuela, Alejandro felt something sharp jabbing at his neck. He looked to his left and saw Erik, a rapier pointed right at Alejandro's jugular.

"Erik?" Manuela asked. With a flick of the wrist, Erik cut away Alejandro's mask. Manuela spat with hate, "Alejandro! I knew that wasn't Erik's voice."

Alejandro flickered his eyes back to Erik and said,

"Are you going to give me any chance Bordeaux? A chance for satisfaction and honor?"

"You have no honor. But I shall gladly give you satisfaction!" Erik spat placing himself between Alejandro and Manuela.

"Erik!" Manuela protested.

"Stand back Manuela." Erik gently ordered, his eyes still fixed on his opponent. Manuela backed up desperately pleading with her eyes to stop this madness. She held Pedro close as Erik allowed Alejandro to unsheathe his rapier. They sized each other up a moment, then Alejandro started the attack. Erik parried three times. Alejandro waited before striking again. As they clashed swords amongst the graves, Erik reflected that this was not the first time he had dueled in a cemetery for the woman he loved. Only now the roles were reversed. Had DeChangy been this scared? This desperate to save Christine from the monster?

Before he even realized it, Alejandro had tripped over a stone, losing his footing and tumbling to the ground. Erik kicked away Alejandro's sword and pointed his rapier at Alejandro's throat once more. Out of breath, Alejandro glared up at Erik, who said,

"You are fortunate I am not the man I was five years ago."

Alejandro shivered when he looked in Erik's cold eyes. He knew those eyes had killed before. Erik ordered him to his feet with a simple flick up of his sword. At that moment, Don Ricardo and several of the men from town came over the hill.

"Papa!" Manuela cried rushing to her father.

"What's going on? First we saw Erik and Pedro ride in like madmen and now this!" Don Ricardo said.

"Would you care to elaborate Garcia or shall I?" Erik asked Alejandro. Staying silent, Alejandro merely sneered when Pedro spoke up,

"He was gonna hurt Manuela Don Montevilla. And make you kick Erik out of town."

Don Ricardo looked condescendingly at Alejandro,

"Really? Well Senor Garcia...it would appear your plan backfired. Sheriff!"

A tall man in head to toe black, a cowboy hat with a tin star on his lapel stepped forward and said with a thick drawl,

"Gladly Ricardo."

"Wait a moment! You can't prove any of this! It's their word against mine!" Alejandro spat as the sheriff took a hold of him. Suddenly, Miguel ran up to Don Ricardo and said,

"Don Montevilla! Senor Bordeaux is dressed as Don Juan and is trying to compromise your daughter!" Then he took notice of the scene before him and Alejandro's heated stare and said, "Uh-oh..." He tried to run, only to be caught by the sheriff's deputy.

"That's good enough for me." said the Sheriff.

"That's not fair!" Alejandro spat as he struggled. The sheriff smiled and laughed,

"Son...this is Texas. You're lucky we haven't found a tall tree!"

The men laughed and followed the sheriff as he began to take Alejandro away.

"Erik!" breathed Manuela. Sheathing his rapier, Erik began to step forward to her,

"Manuela..."

Then suddenly, Alejandro turned on his heel, shaking loose of the sheriff and give a hark right hook across Erik's jaw, sending Erik's mask flying. Manuela cried out and went to help Erik as the Sheriff and a few helpful citizens grabbed Alejandro and dragged him away.

* * *

"Ow!" Erik said clutching the cold rag to his swollen left eye.

"Hold still...you're not quite cleaned up yet..."Manuela said wiping his face off with another wet rag. Erik looked her in the eye and searched her face,

"You don't shrink in fear at the sight of my face...and neither did Pedro. Why?"

Manuela simply smiled and leaned in, brushing her lips against his. Erik deepened the kiss, a hand going up to tangle itself in her hair. Manuela broke the kiss and said,

"I just see Erik. The man behind the mask."

Erik nodded then replied,

"That still doesn't explain Pedro."

Manuela giggled and let Erik wrap his arms around her tight, as fireworks sailed up to explode into the night sky.


	7. Prolouge

Prolouge

November 3, 1876

Erik stood on his porch in the early morning. Drinking a cup of strong coffee, Erik watched the townsfolk begin to bring down the colorful decorations. He had not gone to bed. He was still too excited to sleep. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had Manuela Monteville barge in on his life and on his heart. He couldn't believe it had only been five days. He would have brunch at her parents house again, this time taking Don Ricardo's advice and sticking with the bread and jam. Bread made him think of the Fairfeilds. After returning home that morning, he heard a faint whisper say,

"_We'll see you next year dear...behave yourself." _

_"Or don't...After all with a girl like Manuela..." _

_"Mortimer!" _

Erik chuckled now at the memory of it. Or perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps it was all a wonderful dream. If it was, Erik didn't want to wake up.


End file.
